


Frost and Flame

by ashleyfanfic, justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Father time, Happy Ending, Jon is his usually broody self, Jon just fit Jack Frost a little too well and we ran with it, Jonerys, Jonerys Advent 2020, Mentions of Death, Mother Nature - Freeform, Our spin on Jack Frost, Think the seasons, Winter Solstice, happily ever after is promised as always, not so Christmasy, our versions of Guardians anyway, we start off a bit sad and will work up to the fluffy happiness, with a few more Guardians thrown in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/pseuds/ashleyfanfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: When a day of fun with his family turns tragic, Jon makes the only choice his heart can make. And that choice is rewarded in a way he never could've expected.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 59
Kudos: 176





	1. How Long Will I Have to Wait For Someday?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Happy Holidays! This is our offering for the Jonerys Advent 2020 event that IceAndFireSource was so kind to host for the fandom this year. 
> 
> We're taking the tale of Jack Frost and putting our spin on it, adding in just a tiny bit of Rise of the Guardians. Basically just the idea there are guardians to "take care of things". We meant for this to be a one shot and we both got way too wordy and too busy, so a three parter it is lol. We're pretty far into chapter two and hope to have it up before the end of the year, and part three which will be an epilogue of sorts will follow sometime after the holidays. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Love, hugs, peace and health to you and yours from Ash and I! <3

Draw me a map that I can hold

Lines that tell me where to go

My head is full of lonely harmonies

And questions no one's asking me

Who's gonna take my hand, show me the way?

How long will I have to wait for someday?

It's not the sky I'm asking for

I'm just having trouble finding north

I've gone as far as I can go

Trying to find something that feels like home

Who's gonna take my hand, show me the way?

How long will I have to wait for someday?

One more sunset runs away

Becomes another yesterday

I'm still waiting

Won't someone wake me up, open these eyes?

Won't someone even try?

Who's gonna take my hand, show me the way?

How long will I have to wait for someday, someday?

Finding North - The Civil Wars

  
  
  


He couldn’t run any faster though he tried. Despite his body screaming in protest. Muscles struggling to work in the cold. Lungs burning with each desperate gasp of frigid air. He threw off his cloak, tossed down his sword, feet racing over the ice. Ice they’d skated over every winter he could remember. But she’d gotten too close to the center where the river ran deep, the warmer waters never letting the ice thicken. It had cracked apart beneath her and she’d slipped through in a blink of an eye, down into the darkness. His only thought was getting to her, saving her. He had to get there before the current caught her and swept her down river. 

The others screamed and cried out behind him, but he didn't listen to them, or to the splintering and crackling ice beneath his feet. It would hold until he got there. It had to. His eyes stared at the dark water as he ran, searching for her face peeking above, hands reaching, ripples, splashes. Anything. But there was nothing. Nothing but stillness and silence. 

His eyes stung. Watered. Tears streaking across his temples as he pushed himself harder. He’d get there. He’d make it. He’d find her. Get her warm again. She'd be fine.

Finally,  _ finally _ he reached the black hole she’d fallen into and he jumped in without thought. 

The biting, bitter cold engulfed him, soaked through the thick layers of wool he wore in an instant. Stinging his skin. Splintering through him, shocking him to the core. Stole his breath. Froze it solid within his lungs. But he shook the pain away, had to ignore it. He didn't matter. Only she did.

Using what little light there was he searched the darkness for his sister. But he was moving too much as he fought the current, causing too many bubbles. He couldn't see a thing. He stilled his frantic, flailing limbs and waited for the water to clear while his lungs cried out for air. Screamed and begged. He refused to listen, refused to give into the urge to swim back to the surface. To save himself. His stubbornness was soon rewarded. The bubbles disappeared, and there she was. Floating away on the slow moving current a few feet in front of him. Eyes open, body lifeless.

He cried out, the sight of her stealing his wits. Icy water spilled into his mouth and down his throat, replacing the precious bubbles of air that escaped before he regained the sense to close it. Heart threatening to burst, the painful pounding echoing in his ears, he swam as fast as his freezing body would allow. The current worked with him, carried him to her quicker and he grasped her arm and pulled with all his might. The moment she was close enough he looped her beneath the arms, already kicking his feet to carry them back. His boots felt as if they weighed a hundred stones. All his limbs did. As if some sinister spirits had grabbed hold and were pulling him deeper into the darkness to keep them for their own. 

Jon fought against the current. The fear. The cold. The heaviness and exhaustion. Swam and struggled through the frigid waters, dragging her back to the opening in the ice. Back to the light that was quickly turning black, his vision blurring. Fading.

But hope erupted within him at the sight of hands plunging through the light, reaching for them. 

He pushed Arya towards them with all his strength, got her up far enough she was pulled out of his hands and into the waiting arms of their family. 

He tried to follow, kicking with weak legs, reaching with tired arms until he finally broke through the water, sucking in a great gasp of air. It filled his hungry lungs, gave him a burst of relief, assurance the nightmare was over. 

His family had pulled their sister to the shore. Huddled around her, crying out. Shaking her, warming her, trying to breathe life back into her. 

Arya had to survive. She had to. There was no other option.

Jon grasped the edges of the ice with numb fingers determined to join them, to help. He flung his nearly useless arms further out, tried to grab hold, to get traction to pull himself up. He kicked and fought against the sucking waters, dragging and pulling at him. Made it up onto his elbows just as Robb spotted him. Just as he saw Sansa pull Arya upright, coughing and sputtering, but alive.

He smiled as Robb ran towards him and he reached a hand out for his brother. They’d all be home that night, laughing and warm and grateful. It would all be alright.

Robb was only feet away when a sickening crack splintered the air. Jon watched his brother’s eyes fill with horror as he slid to a stop. His own heart filled with panic. “Back up! Don't come closer!” he gasped, teeth chattering.

“Jon, No! I can reach you!” 

The ice crackled and popped beneath him. He knew it was too late, he wouldn't let his brother fall, too. He shook his head at him, slowly. Carefully. “Go back. Get Arya home and safe,” he whispered. A wracking shudder went through him, his body fighting in vain against the bitter cold. 

The ice gave way. 

“Jon!”

He sank below the surface again. He should’ve swam, should’ve tried to reach out, but he was so cold. So tired. He didn't have it in him to struggle anymore. The icy waters had him in their frozen grip and it was just too much to keep fighting. His limbs were heavy, no longer wanting to work. His lungs were filling, no longer burning for air, but from the ice expanding within them. He’d long since lost feeling in his hands and feet.

His ears still worked. He could hear the muffled thrumming of feet running over the ice above him as he bumped along below, still hoping he might luck out and come to a break in the frozen sheet of white. That hands might crash through and pluck him out of his cold watery grave. A flash of black drew his eyes. Snow was brushed away above him. Robb’s face appeared through the milky haze, twisted in grief as he screamed and pounded on the ice, trying to break it, to get to him. 

Jon put his hand up to the ice once more. A goodbye he never thought he'd have to give. There was no hope. It was too late. The cold was turning to warmth, the fear washing away, peace taking over. He prayed the gods might give his brother the same as he faded from his sight. He closed his eyes and let himself be swept downstream, waiting for death’s sweet embrace to take him.

How long he drifted, he wasn't sure, but soon enough there was nothing. No pain, no grief, no worries. He was wrapped in warmth, walking out of the river with ease, dry as bone, the cold no longer gripping the very depths of him. His breath didn’t even swirl in clouds before him. He was actually the most comfortable he’d ever been. He felt weightless and free, as if he might float off the ground if only he wished to.

“That was a brave thing you did, Lad.” 

Jon turned at the sudden voice and saw an older man leaning against a tree a few feet away. He wore deep crimson furs the likes of which Jon had never seen. A kind smile lit his weathered face. His bright blue eyes twinkled.

“She was your sister, wasn't she?” he asked.

“Half sister,” Jon answered without thought, then frowned. 

_ How did this man know of Arya? Or did he mean Sansa?  _

He took in his surroundings, expecting to see something he knew, but he recognized nothing. Wherever he was he’d never been there before. A thread of unease tickled up his spine. He scowled at the old man. “Where am I? And how d’you know of my sisters?”

“You’re still on Stark land. It will be a few days before they find your body.”

“My-my body?” he sputtered. Jon grabbed hold of himself, hands kneading and patting at his chest. He felt as whole and solid as he always had. Warm. His heart was pounding away beneath his sternum. 

“Easy now, it’s just part of it, Lad,” the old man told him, voice calm and appeasing. “They must believe you’ve gone on. They’ll come collect you, give you the burial you deserve.”

_ Burial! Could he not see him standing there alive and well?  _

“What is this?” Jon demanded, “Who are you?”

“I have many names, faces. You can call me Davos. But I’m more often known as Death.”

Panic gripped him.  _ “Death?” _

The old man nodded. “Aye. It’s my job to bring the souls of the dead over to their new lives. I’m what you might call a sailor of souls.” 

“But I'm not dead,” Jon stammered out, a wild bubble of laughter leaving him. “I'm standin’ right here. I'm breathin’, talkin’ to ya. My heart's still beatin’.”

_ Either the man was mad, or he was trapped in a nightmare. _

Jon was within an inch of running for home when the old man pushed himself off the tree and stepped closer. “Aye, all true, but that's only to make things easier for you.” He stepped closer still, until there was only a foot between them, gave a pained smile and stared at Jon for a long pause, as if he were waiting for him to put a puzzle together. Jon refused to play his game and kept his lips sealed tight. The old man sighed softly. “You gave your life for your sister's, Lad.”

His words sparked memories to light, bright flashes flickering through Jon’s mind.

_ Arya. The ice. The panic. The cold. The darkness. _

“She fell through…” 

The old man laid a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “She did, and you saved her. Gave the ultimate sacrifice. Your life for hers.”

He looked back up at Death, who was still staring at him with kindness in his gaze. He seemed to flicker and fade before Jon’s eyes, a sparkling shimmer shifting around him. He winked, his eyes going from brilliant blue to black only for the stunning visage he made to vanish in a blink and leave nothing but an old man at Jon’s side. 

Death nodded at him, eyes looking him over and Jon held his hands up. He gasped, his mouth falling open at seeing them flicker and fade as well. The trees beyond showed through their hazy glow. It was all Jon needed to accept his fate. 

_ He was dead. He’d died. Drowned in the icy waters of the river. _

_ But Arya hadn't and that was all that mattered. _

He looked back up at Death. “Where will you take me? To the old gods?” 

“No,” he answered with a smile. “Other plans have been made for you.”

Fear took Jon. He stepped away from his touch. “What d’you mean?”

“Calm yourself, Lad. I mean you no harm,” he assured him. “Depending on how the souls I meet lived decides what greets them on the other side. Where they go,” he explained. “Every now and then, I come across one the others and I agree deserves a gift for their sacrifice.”

_ “A gift? _ And what others?”

“We call ourselves the Guardians. We look after things. Things humans can't. And as for the gift… Well, ya see, Lad, winter is coming.”

“It's already here,” Jon scoffed, “D’you not see all this snow we’re standin’ in?”

A great booming laugh left Death. “You're not wrong, it's indeed here, but there's always more of it coming. We need someone to maintain it. To look after it. Nurture it.”

“Nurture winter?” he asked skeptically. It made no sense to him. None of it made any sense.

Death nodded. “The seasons have become unruly. Lasting longer than they should, not giving way to the next as they're meant to. They've become too much for us to maintain with all the other things we have to look after. We need help,” he said. “We’ve already found a guardian for summer and the fire it brings. They go together just as winter and  _ snow  _ do. But we need to keep them all balanced. That's where  _ you _ come in,” he told him, a gloved finger pointed Jon’s way.

“I don’t understand. You think I can control winter?”

“You can now. You’ve been chosen, Jon Snow. Given powers no one else has. Winter is yours. The ice and snow and cold took your life, but now you have power over them all. You can control the temperature, decide when the frost comes, the ice, how much it snows, when it's time for it to end,” he explained. “And for your service, you’ll receive things as well.”

Jon still wasn't sure any of it was truly happening or if he was trapped in a nightmare, or some wild dream, but thought it best to play along regardless. “Such as?” 

“Immortality. You’ll never die again, and you’ll never age.”

That sat him back on his heels.  _ Living forever? Never changing?  _ He wasn't sure how he felt about that. 

Death didn't give him time to decide either. “You’ll control the cold. Wield it like a weapon if you choose, or wrap it ‘round you like a blanket. You’ll never feel its bite again. It will be an old friend, always there for your comfort.” He gave him another smile and a wink. “And  _ this _ is my favorite part.”

He turned and gave a sharp whistle. A sudden shifting sounded just beyond the trees and a great white wolf came rushing through the clearing toward them. Death turned back to Jon. “He’s yours,” he said, still smiling bright.

The beast was beautiful. Nearly as big as a small horse. Brilliant white fur with blood red eyes and a wide black maw. He slowly padded towards Jon, tilted his huge head at him and waited. Jon knew exactly what he was. “A direwolf,” he breathed out. “They’re nearly gone.”

“Aye. But this one will live as long as you do. Ever your companion.”

Jon dropped to a knee in front of the beast and lifted a hand up. The wolf licked at his fingers before pushing his nose into his palm. Jon smiled and buried his fingers into the thick fur at his neck, giving the beast a scratch as they stared at one another. 

“Does he have a name?”

“He will once you give it to him.”

“How about we get to know each other better, boy, and then we can decide?” Jon asked the wolf, who was still enjoying Jon’s fingers in his scruff, his tongue lolling out. “That work for you?”

The beast stepped forward, so close Jon nearly fell back onto his arse, but he caught himself with a chuckle even as his face was bathed by a wet, raspy tongue. 

Death,  _ Davos,  _ whoever he was, gave a soft laugh and Jon glanced up at him. A weight still hung from his heart. “My sister?” he asked, before giving his new companion more scratches. 

“She lives. And will until she's old and gray. Your sacrifice not only saved her, but assured her a long life. But Lad…” His grave tone had Jon looking up at him with a frown. “Don’t go searching for them. You can’t go back,” he told him softly, shaking his head. “They won’t recognize you if you do.”

Jon was on his feet at that, anger erupting within him. “Wait? So, you took me from  _ my life, my family, _ to let me watch them from afar?” he demanded. “ _ For what? _ So I can make it  _ snow?” _

The wind picked up, howling through the trees, the snow stripped from their limbs whipping and swirling in the air. Pelting his face. Thick grey clouds had rolled in with the winds, fresh snow falling from them fast, the flakes heavy and fat. 

The abruptness of it all startled Jon. Davos stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Take a few slow breaths,” he prompted. “Just close your eyes and think about something nice. When you calm, so will the storm.”

Jon did as he was told just to see if it would work, and sure enough thoughts of his family, laughing and smiling together cleared the dark clouds, made the winds wane, and brought the sun out of hiding. He could only blink in wonder at Davos. 

“It’ll take you some time, but you’ll learn to control it on command.”

“You still took me from my family,” he bit out through clenched teeth, the pain and anger quickly climbing back to the surface.

“No, Lad,” Davos returned with a small shake of his head. “We're only rewarding the choice  _ you  _ made. If you hadn't made the sacrifice, someone else would’ve gotten the job.”

A wave of pain washed through Jon, not a physical pain, though he felt it all the same. Felt it down to his bones, his chest filled with an aching pressure. His eyes burning. “My family...”

He’d never known a day that they weren't there, and now he faced an eternity without them.

Davos squeezed his shoulder. “They will mourn you. Will miss you. Just as you will them.”

“All my life I’ve felt like an outsider because of my birth. I was one of them, but I wasn't all the same. Now, I’m even more of one. Can only watch them from afar.” He swiped at his blurry eyes before looking up at Davos. “Will I have to watch them all die?”

“Only if you want to, Lad,” he answered kindly. “Believe me, I know how you're feeling. You live long enough to watch those you love pass away and you wonder why you’ve been given such a fate. But the world needs you, Jon,” he pressed. 

“I'm not special, whatever you think. I'm not.”

“You decided to save someone you love even though you knew it could cost you your life. That’s the ultimate display of love. I don't think you know how rare that is in this world of ours, Lad,” he contended. 

“Maybe more than you think,” Jon muttered in return.

Davos didn't seem to hear him, continuing on. “While you don’t understand yet why you were chosen, I promise in time, your reward won’t seem like the sentence you believe it is now. The life of a Guardian isn’t something to take lightly, but you were chosen for a reason.” He patted his shoulder and gave him a pointed look. “Trust in that.”

“Any one of my siblings would have done the same thing.”

Davos sighed. “It wasn’t just that you did it, Jon. There’s an air of destiny about you. I have a feeling you’ll find out why eventually.”

“That doesn’t bring me any comfort.”

“I didn’t figure it would,” he chuckled. “But maybe one day it will.”

Jon rolled his eyes at him. “What do I do now?”

“Explore!” Davos crowed, throwing his arms out wide. “There is no where off limits to you, Jon Snow. The North is yours. You’re the King of Winter.” He began to back away, smiling bright. “See the world at your fingertips. Experiment with your powers, learn to control them. The fate of everyone in the North depends on it,” he said before he winked, then shimmered and drifted away like snowflakes on the wind.

Jon glanced down at the direwolf who still sat at his feet and gave a heavy sigh. “Well, boy, I'm glad he didn't leave me completely alone out here at least.” He scratched behind the beast’s ears and got a slow blink in return. “I’ve got no idea where we're going, but I guess we better get started.”

The wolf jumped to his feet and loped off towards the trees. Jon cast one more look down the river, the ache in his chest still making it hard to breathe. His heart heavy but reconciled, he put his back to his past and followed his wolf into the woods.

  
  


*~*

  
  


She felt a presence at her back and turned from her work, shocked to see Davos. His eyebrows jumped and waggled as he gave a little wave and a smile. 

None of which helped her feelings. She stretched out her senses, searching for the soul she must have missed. Relieved and also quite confused to find no one lost to her flames. “What are you doing here?” she asked him, pulling the heat back into her center, watching carefully for the flames to fade to embers. She'd finish later.

Davos stepped up beside her, his expression one of feigned hurt. “Can an old friend not drop in for a visit?”

_ “Death,  _ come for a  _ friendly  _ visit?” she scoffed. “Not likely.” She squinted up at him. “I feel no one. Please tell me I didn't—”

“Ya didn't, Lass. I'm truly here just to visit,” he assured her and gave a rolling tilt of his head. “It's been a long time.”

It had. Over a century she was sure, perhaps two. Time passed so quickly. 

She smiled as she reached up and gave him a hug. “It's good to see you, old friend.”

He pulled away with a disgruntled frown.  _ “Old.  _ I'm not so old compared to some.”

“How have you been?” she chuckled. 

“Busy, unfortunately. And you?”

“The same,” she sighed. “No one knows what to do with fire anymore. If it's not reckless fools ignoring its power, it's ignorant ones refusing to use it.”

Davos patted her shoulder with a soft laugh. “Humans.”

“Indeed.”

They stood quietly for a time watching her embers slowly work their way across the valley they stood above. The passing of an hour was nothing to them. 

“How have you really been?” he asked eventually.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you after, sir? Who have you been talking to?”

A blush bloomed over his cheeks. “Margaery,” he mumbled.

Dany gasped in outrage and clenched her fists. “That little nymph!”

“She's only worried about you.”

“I'm fine! Summer is fine!” she ranted. “I'm controlling the fires.”

He took a gentle grasp of her arms. “Of course, you are. No one's complaining about your work, Lass. No one's complaining at all,” he told her gently. 

She deflated a bit, ashamed of herself for overreacting. “I'm sorry,” she muttered.

Davos chuckled. “S’alright, Lass. You’ve always been a spirited thing,” he said with a wink. “We're just looking after you. It's what we do, isn't it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but last I checked it's no one's job to be  _ my _ guardian.”

He laughed. “We just want ya happy, Lass.”

“I'm fine.” Davos stared at her with his old blue eyes as if he knew all her secrets. “Don’t give me that look,” she threatened, not an ounce of true animosity behind it. Again, he just watched her and waited. She blew out a huff. “So what if I’m a bit depressed. It’s not like I haven't been before and gotten through it. We’ve all been there, haven't we?”

He nodded. “May I make a suggestion?” 

“One I haven't heard before?”

He laughed again. “Not sure about that…” he acknowledged and scratched at his beard. “But have ya ever considered taking a vacation up north?”

She blinked at him. Surely, he was jesting. When he didn't begin to argue his point, she forged ahead with her own. “The cold and I don't really get on so well. You know, considering  _ who _ I am and all.”

“So you haven't considered it then?”

“Of course, I haven't.”

_ What was he up to? _

He mumbled under his breath something to the effect of  _ sounds just like him, _ before clearing his throat. “You should.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her eyebrows. “And why is that?”

“Oh… you know...” he put his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet, staring down at his toes, “one never knows what they might find in the most unlikely of places.”

“Such as?” she pressed. 

He eyed her, blue eyes piercing. “Do you trust me?”

She'd had enough of his little trivia game. “Out with it, Davos,” she demanded, fists propped on her hips. 

He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it over. She took it with cautious fingers. “It's a nice little place for a visit. You might just find a friend there.”

“I have friends.”

“Aye. But not quite like this one.”

Dany read over his scratchy script.  _ Queenscrown. _ She'd never heard of it, but then again the North wasn't a place she ever needed to worry with. She looked back up at Davos with narrowed eyes. “What's so special about them?”

“Go north, Lass. I have a feeling you’ll know him when you see him.”

_ Wait, what!?  _

_ “Him?!”  _ she squealed, but she didn't get an answer. 

Davos vanished in a shimmer of swirling smoke. She cursed the empty air but couldn't stop herself from staring at the paper he’d given her. Maybe she should get away for a while? See something besides scorched earth and thunderstorms, do something with her grief other than wallow in it. 

_ But who was this man Davos meant for her to befriend? In the North of all places? _

She tucked the paper into her pocket and turned back to her work, knowing one thing for certain… Margaery was definitely getting a phone call later. 

  
  


*~*

  
  


Snow fell in fat flakes outside the window of his shop. It was piled in high drifts along the street, on rooftops and tree limbs. The few brave townsfolk trudging up and down the sidewalks were bundled up tight against the winter weather. But none of it eased Jon’s mind. Neither did the swirls of frost growing from beneath the fingertip he had pressed to the window pane. He was troubled. Feared he was somehow losing control of his powers, that hundreds of years worth of skill might be fading away. 

It was getting warmer. 

Not so much the humans would notice or give it a second thought. Just a degree here, and another there. But it had been rising by the day no matter how he worked against it. But the solstice was still a few days away and something was definitely different,  _ wrong.  _

Some shift in the patterns he couldn’t seem to control. Which had never happened before. Not since his first few years anyway. He’d long since perfected his craft.

When he’d gone to check on White Harbor he found the waters weren't as icy. The winds not as frigid. The snowfall not as thick. As if Spring was edging closer much too soon. 

He couldn't help but wonder if it was what Davos had meant all those years ago about the seasons being unruly.

That made no sense though. He’d had absolute control over his domain for centuries. Things had been balanced just as Davos said they needed to be year after year. He’d done his job and he’d done it well. 

_ So what the hells was wrong? _

He huffed out a breath of frustration and went back behind his desk, plopping down in his old chair and gave Ghost a scratch behind his ears. “Do you think I'm losin’ my touch, boy? Or is something else fightin’ against me?” As always, Ghost didn't make a peep, only appreciated Jon’s attention with the lick of a raspy tongue. 

His faithful companion had been a godsend. Had he not had him by his side, he was certain he would've lost his mind ages ago. Gone completely and utterly mad.

He had watched too many people he loved fade away. Had continued on, never changing, as the world spun past him as if he were standing still, any sort of attachment he had to anyone destined to die each and every time. He’d decided quite quickly he loathed that part of his  _ gift.  _

Immortality sucked.

He kept to himself, the grief too much to bear. So alone he was, save for Ghost. And an occasional visit from Davos. 

His old friend, Death had tried time and again to break Jon free of his solitude, but he’d stood strong against his pushing and prodding and poking. Ghost was all he needed. His true gift. After so long together, he knew the wolf better than he knew himself, and Ghost knew him just as well. 

He’d be forever thankful for him.

The front door suddenly burst open, the bell ringing shrill over the gusty winds, a blast of cold and snow blowing in no doubt. He heard it snap shut again as he stood and made his way to the front and behind the counter so whoever it was could find him if they needed him. 

He found them instead. A traveler, he was certain. They were bundled up tighter than any local would be, so many layers piled on he wondered how they could even breathe, let alone how they managed to walk. He nearly laughed, the sight was so comical. 

They wore not one, but two knit hats. One striped, the other polka dots. Silver braided pigtails sprung from underneath the hats and hung down the front of a bright red puffy coat; his only clue he might be looking at a female, save for their smaller stature. Their face was hidden by not only a large pair of skiing goggles, but also a scarf wrapped numerous times around their head, mouth and nose completely covered. 

A large backpack was strapped to their back and what looked to be at least four inches of snow was stuck to their boots which they proceeded to stomp off.

Jon grimaced. He’d have a substantial puddle to clean up later. They finally shuffled over with a swish of nylon and pressed two mitten covered hands to the counter. 

“Hand warmers,” said a muffle feminine voice.

His guesses had been spot on.

He bit back a chuckle and pointed the way. “Aisle three.” She waddled away, swishing loudly, and he looked down at Ghost, letting his rather amused smile break free. “Humans. Such fragile things, huh, boy?”

Ghost smiled at that, his tongue flopping out the side of his mouth, thick fluffy tail thumping against the wood floor.

Jon gave him a pet as he took a seat on his stool and sipped on his iced coffee until she shuffled back up with what looked like two of every type of hand warmer he had in stock piled in her arms. She leaned over as much as her puffy coat allowed and let them spill across the counter. There were at least a dozen. He’d have to order more to restock.

He began ringing them up as she struggled out of her gloves and dug around in her pockets for what he assumed would be her chosen form of payment. He wasn't wrong, she soon handed over her credit card. 

“Want me to bag them up?”

She shook her head. “Open them?”

He furrowed his brow. “Which ones?”

“All of them,” she answered. 

Biting back another laugh he shook his head. “Ma’am, half of these are one time use and the others you need to warm in a microwave,” he explained. 

A whimpering sigh left her as she held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Frostbite.”

It was all Jon could do not to roll his eyes. Her fingers were a rosy pink, far from frostbit. 

He licked his lips and pulled them between his teeth as he opened one of the packets for her, making a point to hold the warmer up so she could see him squeeze until the little metal plate inside snapped and the gel began to warm and crystallize before putting it in her outstretched hand. She hummed appreciatively and quickly slipped her mitten back on top of it. 

“Careful,” he warned, “Those aren't really meant to be against your skin for a long time. They can burn you.”

“Not me,” she murmured through her scarf.

Jon shrugged. If she wanted to get burned, that was on her. They repeated the process with the second one and he bagged up the rest as she got her other mitten on, passing over the bag to her with a customer pleasing smile. She took it with a mumbled ‘ _ thanks’ _ and waddled out the door. 

He followed behind with his mop and bucket, watched her make her slow way down the street and around the corner as he soaked up her discarded puddle of melted snow and mud. “I hope she's right with the gods, boy. Cause I don't give her a day.”

  
  


*~*

  
  


She surprised him. Showed up once again two days later. Walked straight up to the counter and began removing some of her layers. Her mittens—complete with hand warmers—hats, goggles, and finally her scarf. 

He hadn't been prepared. At all. 

She’d revealed a face that stole the air he didn't need from his lungs. She was gorgeous. Thick braids of silver hair. Flushed cheeks, plush pink lips, and large lavender eyes lined with lush lashes. 

He’d seen a lot of beautiful women in his many years, but  _ never _ one like her. 

She huffed out a breath as she placed both hands on the counter, but didn’t say anything for several long moments, seemingly content to stare at him just as he was her. 

“What can I help you with today?” he managed before he could grow too uncomfortable beneath her gaze. 

“Thermal socks.”

He gave a nod and beckoned her to follow him. Why he hadn't directed her there with a point of his finger as he’d done the last time he wasn't going to examine too closely.

She stayed on his heels as he led them to the back of the store. It was most certainly his nerves, but it felt as if she were a fire at his back, his skin prickling and tingling. He ignored it as best he could and waved her toward the display of socks across from the hiking boots.

She barely looked over them before she was pulling one of each design and piling them into her arms just as she had the hand warmers. His eyes widened and he could only stand there and watch her. Eventually she reached the last peg and straightened, gave him a nod, and led the way back to the front. 

He followed dumbly, feeling as if he needed to make some sort of conversation, but having no idea how. He could almost see Davos shaking his head at him in exasperation.  _ If you’d let yourself get out more…  _ He’d no doubt say.

She'd made it to the counter and dropped her load of socks onto it so he shoved aside his awkwardness and rang them up for her, tucked them away in a bag. Just as he reached for the last pair she snatched them up, leaving her credit card in their place.

Jon wasn't sure what to make of her, could only watch again as she moved over one of the chairs in front of the window and slipped her pack from her back. He tried to pay attention as he ran her payment through, but couldn't seem to tear his eyes away as she removed her boots and tugged on the new socks over the thin ones she was already wearing. Her feet were small and dainty and he wondered if she shouldn't add a third pair. But she tucked each foot back into its boot and laced them up before he could get himself to suggest it. 

She had grabbed her pack up and was back to the counter where she proceeded to don her hats, goggles, and scarf again, hiding her beauty from the world. 

He wondered at the stab of disappointment he felt. 

She slipped the credit card from beneath his fingers; he’d pushed it towards her without even realizing. He got another muffled  _ ‘thanks’  _ as she took her hefty bag of socks, slipped on her mittens and shuffled out his door again. 

As if she had a string attached to him, he was pulled around the counter and to the door, his face nearly pressed to the glass as he watched her walk down Main Street and turn the corner. He had the sudden and insane need to follow her, to see where she was going, to find out what she was doing so far north when she obviously hated the cold. 

He’d rarely used his powers to spy on humans, it just seemed wrong to watch people when they had no idea you were there. Not to mention he was terrible at it, always managing to bump into something and nearly give himself away. But he wanted to more than he ever remembered wanting to before. 

He forced himself from the door, scratching his head in confusion. Maybe he had been a loner for far too long. This mystery woman was tying him up in knots and they’d barely spoken a dozen words to one another. He spun back around and locked the door, flipped his sign to  _ closed  _ even though that was hours away. 

A drink was in order. 

  
  


*~*

  
  


Jon had barely slept, his curiosity over his mysterious new customer keeping him twisting and turning throughout the night. His want to go searching for her had not waned in the least. He was quite frustrated by the time dawn arrived. With himself and her. Her especially for showing up and throwing a fire into his cold comfortable colorless existence. For making him burn for things he’d long since given up.

So when he spotted her shuffling her way down the sidewalk and back into his shop the following day he groaned, unsure if he was pleased to see her or not. 

This time she removed her pack straight away and placed it in the chair closest to the front door, followed by her hats, goggles, and scarf, piling them on top. When she turned to face him, his heart betrayed him by skipping a few beats. She was just as arresting as she'd been the day before. Maybe even more so. Her silver hair was down, flowing in waves over her shoulders. It looked like snowy silk. It was unfair how beautiful she was. She may not fare well in the cold, but she looked like a goddess made for winter. Her gloves were pulled off, the hand warmers pulled out of them and all was tucked into her coat pockets before she stepped up to him.

He quickly closed his mouth, realizing it was hanging open and brought his mug to his lips to cover his social blunder. 

Her pretty purple eyes widened. “I hate to ask, but do you happen to have another cup? My insides are nearly as frozen as my outside,” she said with an uncomfortable chuckle. 

It was the most words he’d heard from her. He wanted to hear more. Her voice was akin to a warm caress across his cheek. He swallowed hard and gestured to the coffee pot and trimmings behind him. “Help yourself.”

She walked the short distance around the counter as he looked down at Ghost who was laying on the floor at his feet, staring up at their customer. His tail thumped against the legs of Jon’s stool and she spun around at the noise, immediately gaping and gasping at his wolf in awe. It was the usual reaction and he opened his mouth to tell her Ghost was harmless when she dropped to her knees. “Oh my goodness! Are you a direwolf?!”

_ Wait, what? How did she know... _

He furrowed his brow and stared at her hard as she reached forward and dug her hands into Ghost’s fur. His wolf nuzzled into her and Jon felt a sudden possessiveness rise up in him over his companion. “Ghost,” he said lowly, and the great beast pulled away from her and looked up at him. Jon could almost feel him roll his eyes. He scowled at him in retaliation.

“Ghost? What an intriguing name for such an intriguing animal,” she said, giving him another scratch. “I’d heard stories about direwolves, of course, but everyone told me they were extinct. I should have known better,” she muttered and suddenly lifted her head to look at him, big violet eyes round with wonder. “Where did you find him?”

Jon had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Years ago. In my youth.” 

“Are there more?”

He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No. Ghost is the last of his kind.”

She bit her bottom lip, her brow twisting with grief as she gave Ghost another pet. “That’s amazing and heartbreaking all at once,” she sighed. “A dying breed. Like dragons.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Dragons have been gone longer than direwolves.”

She froze. Swallowed and shook her head slightly before looking up at him again with a nervous smile. “You’re right. Of course.”

She stood and began making her coffee, pointedly ignoring him. Cupped the mug in her hands with a happy sigh once she had and proceeded to drink it down. Gulp after gulp until she had drained it dry. 

Once again he was left blinking at her, bewildered and bemused. He might have preferred it like warm at best, but it would scald a man straight from the pot. 

She apparently loved the heat as much as he did the cold. 

She rinsed the mug and placed it beside the little sink then wandered over to the shelf he had lined with books about the North. He took the opportunity to watch her, though from beneath his lashes while he pretended to read his own book. He was vibrating with the need to ask her who the hells she was and what the hells she was doing in Queenscrown, arriving so unprepared that she was slowly buying up half his stock. But he kept all his wonderings to himself. None of it mattered. She was just a tourist who would leave sooner rather than later, and a human to boot. He’d be an absolute fool to even think of getting attached.

_ But, _ he could at least enjoy the view while it was available. 

Watch her delicate fingers as they ran along the spines of the books, her pretty head tilted to the side so she could read the titles. See her toss a heavy wave of silver silk over her shoulder as if it annoyed her while all he wanted was to bury his face in it so he’d know her scent. 

_ Gods, he’d been with Ghost too long. He was acting more dog than man. _

Long lashes fluttered against her cheeks. A wet, pink tongue slid slowly across her full bottom lip, teeth piercing it as she studied the books before her. They looked so soft. So plush and perfect for kissing. 

As she pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through the pages Jon shifted on his stool and plucked at his shirt to get some air, his body growing uncomfortably warm. She tucked the book beneath her arm and moved on to another. And another. Still biting and licking at her lips with each one.

“You’re not from here, are you?” he blurted out, immediately regretting it.

She laughed, a glorious sound that made all his embarrassment worth it. She looked over her shoulder at him with a breathtaking smile. “What gave me away?”

_ Everything? _

That would be rude to say he was sure, so he tried for something more diplomatic. “Small town, it’s pretty easy to know everyone,” he landed on and found himself on his feet and walking towards her. “And you don’t seem at all acclimated to the cold.”

“I’m not,” she laughed again, her cheeks pinking up. “At all. You obviously know by now I didn’t pack the right things. I wasn’t quite ready for how cold it is here.”

“Where you from?”

“Dorne,” she answered. “Spent most of my life there so I call it home. The North is  _ much _ different.”

“Just harsh in a different way, I would imagine,” he said, his defensiveness rearing up unasked.

“I love the heat,” she said wistfully.

That wasn't surprising. “Why’d you end up here then?”

She turned violet eyes to his and gave a shy smile. “I’m looking for someone.”

_ Ahhhh.  _ Made sense. What didn't was how disappointed he suddenly felt. This woman was making him lose his mind. He had to get it back. 

“I know everyone in town. Perhaps I can help,” he forced himself to ask. Maybe the sooner she found who she was looking for the sooner she’d leave and he could stop feeling so twisted and torn.

But she waved him off. “Oh, I’m sure you could, but half the fun is finding them on my own.” She turned back to the display of books. “Any recommendations?”

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for,” he said as he moved closer to her. That invisible string he’d imagined the other day tugging at him again while he fought not to stare at her perfect mouth and the way it was curled into a smile, or how her eyes seemed to sparkle like jewels in the light. 

“I’m looking for information about the Wall and the Lands of Always Winter,” she told him.

The Wall was a national landmark, so it wasn't too surprising she was interested in it. He made note of the two titles in her arms and walked around and past her, pulling a book he knew would answer any questions she might have. He held it out to her. “Those two you’ve got have great photos, but this one’s more in depth about the history of the Wall and everything beyond it, includin’ the Wildlings,” he explained. 

“Oh, I love history books,” she beamed at him. “Thank you.”

“You plannin’ to visit the Wall?”

She nodded. “I am. And beyond it too,” she confessed, eyes alight with excitement. 

His stomach gave a queer flop, his heart joining the dance. “Alone?”

“Oh no, I plan to have a guide,” she answered. “The person I’m meeting actually.” 

While he was relieved she wasn't planning to traspe off by herself, her statement left him a bit confused. It sounded as if this guide didn't know they would be one, but it wasn't any of this business. 

“Have you ever been to the South?” she asked. “Say, the beaches of Dorne or the Southern Isles? Feel the hot sun beating down on you?”

He pulled a face before he could stop himself. “Afraid not. Never left the North. Not once. I love the cold, and uh… what sunlight we get up here is barely warm.”

“Is that why you’re so pale?” she asked with a quirk of her mouth before walking further down the aisle.

“I suppose,” he answered, following. 

“So you’ve always lived here?” 

“Aye, all my life.”

An alarm suddenly went off, her phone he guessed. It sounded muffled and small. A soft gasp left her and she dashed around him and over to her bag. 

Ghost was on his feet, slowly inching closer to her, his ears pricked forward. He set Jon’s already agitated senses on high alert. They both gave her space, but kept keen eyes focused on her. Just as she reached her bag, Jon caught sight of movement inside it. The zipper slowly slid open and a dark, reptilian snout poked out. He could only stare in shock as she dropped the books none too gently beside the bag and quickly shoved the creature back in(whatever it was), zipped the bag closed again and snatched up her scarf, wrapping it around her face. Her mittens and goggles were gathered up next, the pack slung over her shoulder and then she was at the door, already pushing it open.

“You don’t want the books?” he called out, hoping to keep her there, needing more time to put the puzzle pieces together. 

“No time!”

_ Damnit. _ “What about the person you were supposed to meet?” he tried again.

She froze then glanced at him over her shoulder and hope flared in his chest. “I’ll... meet him tomorrow,” she stumbled out before hurrying through the door and into the heavy snowfall.

He let out a frustrated sigh. Ghost looked up at him, and Jon could feel the same curiosity within his wolf he had boiling inside of him. He crouched down at his side, scratching beneath his chin as he stared out the door. “You saw that, too, huh?” he whispered.

Ghost licked his cheek in answer and Jon stood, giving him a pat on the head. “Let’s close up early and go upstairs. I feel like revisitin’ the old tomes for some research.”

He wasn't positive, but he had a pretty strong feeling he knew exactly who his mysterious customer was. 

  
  


*~*

  
  


The next morning when the door opened and she appeared once again, Jon was feeling eager and a bit cocky, too. His reading the night before had led him down some interesting paths as he’d rethought every conversation he’d had with her in his mind. 

Ghost had perked up as she entered as well, going around the counter to greet her with a wagging tail and prancing feet. She mumbled out a greeting of her own to him as she gave him a few pets then proceeded to unwrap herself from her many layers.

Jon presented her with a scalding cup of coffee once she reached the counter. She gave him a bright smile. “Thank you! It seems like it’s letting up some out there,” she said cheerfully.

He glanced out the window and sure enough the snow had lightened to only flurries. The temperature had gone up another degree too. He could feel it. It was still below freezing, but warmer all the same. The clouds were pushing through faster, and earlier that afternoon, rays of sunlight had been peeking through them. 

And now he knew why.

He glanced at her and then pointedly towards her bag. She caught his silent perusal and gingerly removed it, placing it beside one of the armchairs. He had a fire blazing in the hearth across the room, purposely of course, and she found her way to it. The fan he had hidden beneath the counter was on high, helping to hide how the extra heat in the room was causing him to sweat. 

She held her hands out to the flames and glanced over her shoulder at him. “This is so lovely. I'm sorry about my abrupt departure yesterday, by the way. I’m on a medication schedule.”

_ A clever ruse. Who would think to ask more without being seen as invasive? _ “It’s alright. I kept the books up here, though. In case you came back.”

“Thanks,” she said as she turned away from the flames and walked back over to the counter.

“So… Did you get to meet the someone you were lookin’ for?” he prodded, nearly certain he knew exactly who that  _ someone  _ was.

“Maybe.”

_ “Maybe?”  _

“It's just someone I heard about a long time ago,” she muttered as she slowly flipped through the  _ Photography of the North.  _

He nodded and took a sip of his cold coffee. “Like I said, I know everyone in town,” he offered after he swallowed. “I might be able to help.”

“It’ll sound silly,” she said, her eyes darting to Ghost while she chewed on her bottom lip.

Jon bit back a smile. He’d expected he’d have to pull it out of her as one would a rotten tooth. In tiny little pieces.  _ Was she really going to confess? _

“Try me,” he said, seeing if she'd take his dare.

Her eyes shot to his. She slowly tilted her head, appearing to weigh him, take his measure with her sparkling violet eyes. His cockiness evaporated, melting away under her penetrating gaze. 

“I’m looking for Jack Frost,” she finally said.

He couldn't help himself. He rolled his eyes in disgust. “I see.” 

_ Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she was just a silly tourist after all.  _

“Do you?” she challenged.

“There’s no Jack Frost,” he grumbled with a shake of his head. “That’s a made up name. People with too much imagination and not enough good sense.”

_ Jack Frost.  _ He hated that name. Had never understood why Jon Snow hadn't been good enough for them. 

“I believe that’s true,” she said, surprising him out of his brooding. He blinked at her, saw a tiny grin curve up one corner of her lush lips. “I think  _ Jack Frost _ does exist, just not the way we all think of him.”

Jon sank back on his stool, crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

She gave a nod and leaned on the counter, propping up on her arms, folding her hands together. Her eyes fell to them, glazing over, seeing something far away. He had expected her to tease him so her sudden solemness had a thread of guilt worming its way into his gut. 

“When I was a little girl, I lived in Essos. There was a fire near my home, in another house. A family was trapped in it. Everyone got out except for the new baby,” she said quietly. “No one would go in. They all stood staring as the fire grew, the child still inside, crying out over the roar of the flames.”

Jon furrowed his brow. “That's horrible.”

She nodded slowly, still lost in her tale. “The mother was sobbing, begging someone to help. And I didn’t think,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I just... rushed inside. There was so much smoke and the flames all around… The heat was unbearable, but I didn’t care. I had to find that baby. And I did. I found her. I tore off my dress and wrapped her inside it. Ran her out of the house.”

He felt sick. And awed as well. The frigid waters had been one thing…  _ But fire? Walking into flames?  _ He couldn't imagine having the strength to do such a thing. He drew in a breath and held it. “Were you burned?”

Again, she nodded. “Beyond recognition,” she whispered. “But soon enough all the pain stopped and I was... lifted from it. From the world.” She heaved out a soft sigh and finally met his gaze again.

What he saw in her eyes… Jon remembered it well, what dying was like despite the centuries that had passed since he had. The peace followed by fear and confusion. Then the acceptance.

“I was bestowed a gift,” she went on. “I would never feel the pain of fire and its heat again. I would never be damaged by its flames, or its smoke. I would wield it, hold it as my own. I would  _ be _ the flames. The fire, the heat.”

He sat forward, placed his coffee on the counter and then reached beneath it. Pulled out the book Davos had given him on his second visit so long ago about the Guardians that he’d kept, but had barely bothered to look at until the night before. She smiled, obviously recognizing it as he flipped open the pages and finally landed on the figure of a woman wrapped in flames, her silver hair dancing within them. 

“Fire made flesh,” he whispered. “Summer.”

“More or less,” she said with a nod and turned a few pages more. “And not Frost,” she said softly, “but  _ Snow.”  _ Her finger ran over his image, or what was meant to be him. 

The likeness wasn't well done. His nose was all wrong, the shape of his face. Jaw too wide and chin too narrow. The grey of his eyes was completely the wrong shade too. He’d been disappointed at that. Though they had gotten his black curls right at least, and the snowflakes that swirled around his head. 

He sat back in his seat and covered his smile with a hand. Rubbed at his beard. “How long did it take you to figure it out?”

She grinned and looked over at Ghost who had his head resting on the countertop, his long tongue hanging out and leaving slobber everywhere as his red eyes darted back and forth between them. He chuckled, embarrassed at the silly mutt’s behavior while she stroked him softly over the head. “This beautiful fellow was my final clue,” she confessed, “but I suspected by the second visit I had found you.” She glanced up at him, held his gaze. “It's cold outside, but it's  _ just _ a bit colder in here.”

Jon examined her for a few moments through narrowed eyes. The artist hadn't gotten her likeness right either, though with her beauty, he doubted anyone could. He held his hand out to her, a smirk forming about his lips. “Jon Snow. It's nice to meet you…?”

Still grinning, she slipped her hand into his. The heat coming from her skin was like hovering his hand over open flames. They both gasped and he watched her eyes widen, dark pupils swallowing purple. “Daenerys Targaryen,” she whispered.

They both slowly pulled their hands away, though reluctantly on his part. It was refreshing to feel something so warm yet not uncomfortable in the least. Burning without the pain. And somehow it made perfect sense. 

He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.” He took her mug and turned to the coffee pot. “You figured it out as well. May I ask how?” 

“I’ve known somethin’ was different for a few weeks now. Could feel it in the air. The temperature was risin’,” he explained as he passed her a full cup. She took it with a smile of thanks. “You had me thinkin’ I was losin’ my touch.” She chuckled at that and sipped her coffee. He went on with his explanation. “And then yesterday, when you tried to leave so quickly, I saw your  _ friend  _ in your bag.”

She glanced back at the bag with a roll of her eyes and sighed. “I have him on a pretty strict schedule. I should’ve known I was cutting it close.”

“Can I see him?” he asked with far too much enthusiasm.

Her smile nearly ate up her eyes. “When he wakes up. He doesn’t do so well in the cold,” she explained. 

Jon nodded and scrubbed at his brow, perturbed with himself for not thinking things through. He really needed to work on his social skills. “Aye, well. That makes sense,” he said, scrambling to recover. He looked over at Ghost. “I can't imagine he’d do any better down in Dorne. I’d probably have to shave him bald then slaver him in sunscreen.”

Daenerys laughed and he thought he'd never heard such a wonderful sound in all his long years. It somehow filled his chest, made his cheeks flush, and had something dancing within his stomach too.

“Dragons naturally stay near flames,” she offered, still rubbing Ghost between his ears. “When the flames die down, they sleep. But I have to feed him, so I’ve managed to get him to adhere to a schedule and he wakes up when it's time to eat.”

“What’s his name?”

“Drogon. My lifelong companion. Like your Ghost, here.” 

“I'm not sure I would've made it without him,” he mumbled, falling quickly back into his usual melancholy.

“Immortality can have its drawbacks,” she said in soft agreement.

His eyes shot to hers and the understanding he found in them was akin to a boulder being lifted off his chest. 

He nodded and found himself on his feet, walking around the counter. She gave him a questioning look and he gestured to the two chairs beside the front window. He waited for her to sit before he took up the other.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Here in Queenscrown? Only… twelve years now, I think. Every thirty years or so I move to a new town until no one in the previous one remembers me,” he explained. “Do you stay in the same place?”

“No. I travel around too. Especially when it's,” she held her fingers up and made air quotes, “not my turn,” she said with a grin. “I’ve met your brother, Robb.”

She could have slapped him and he wouldn't have been anymore surprised.  _ “What? _ He’s been gone—”

“Oh, he’s not gone,” she argued, shaking her head. “In fact, he’s settled rather well into his life with Spring.”

_ Was she insane?  _

“What do you mean?” he asked, sitting forward in his chair, scowling at her. “Robb is gone. He died on a hunting trip. Took an arrow for his son.”

She frowned at him. “And I died in a fire. And you in a frozen river from what I understand. Your brother  _ is  _ Autumn. And his bride, Margaery Tyrell, is Spring.”

Jon sat back in his chair, unable to take in any of what she was telling him. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. He shook his head, searching through the memories he had of his family's last days. He'd stayed close to home until they all passed on, needing to be close no matter how much it hurt to be left alone on the outside looking in. He’d never tried to talk to them, had known he would've never been able to survive them not knowing him. But he’d watched over them all the same.

He’d been in the room when his father had succumbed to a terrible, lingering cough some ten years after his own death. Bran had died when he fell from a tree at just twelve. Sansa and Arya and Rickon had all passed from old age. And Robb… Robb had been taking his son and Sansa's boys on their first hunt. One had accidentally loosed their arrow, playing when they shouldn't have been. But his brother had been watching. Jon could still see his bright blue eyes widen the moment he realized what would happen and the split second decision he made to give his life for his son. 

“It’s... not possible.”

“It’s true,” Daenerys pressed gently. “I stopped to see them on my way North,” she told him. “They were doing their normal travel from the Riverlands to the Reach. Margaery goes home every March for the blooming. Robb goes to the Riverlands in September for the changing of the trees. Now, granted, their returns cause both of those things, but they always go home. They're bonded.”

Jon was up and grabbing Davos’ book, flipping through the pages, searching for a familiar face, the snapping paper seeming to crack just as his emotions were. 

And there he was.  _ Autumn.  _ Red hair and blue eyed.

Of course that's where the similarities ended. 

Jon nearly threw the book across the room. “I don't know who drew these, but they got all of us all wrong. This looks nothin’ like my brother,” he snarled, slapping the back of his fingers against the old parchment. “And why doesn't it have our names? I could've known ages ago. Better yet, why didn't Davos fuckin’ tell me my brother was a Guardian?” he ranted on, his blood boiling.

“Jon.” 

His head snapped up. Daenerys was at his side. She laid a hand on his arm and looked towards the door, nodding her head the tiniest bit.

He followed her gaze. The door was rattling, the windows too, all being battered by the fierce winds that had suddenly blown up outside. The snow swirling with them was thick and heavy. The clouds the color of dark ash.

Daenerys squeezed his arm and drew his attention back to her. “I'm not sure why Davos hasn't told you,” she said softly, “you’ll have to ask him that. But Robb knows who you are. He's tried to find you many times. You don't keep a phone. And you move so often, too. And as I've said, he’s bonded to Spring and she doesn't do well away from home, or Autumn. So he hasn't been able to come without her.”

That wasn't good enough for Jon. “You're here. You found me,” he accused.

“Davos told me where you were. And I'm much older than her. It's not so hard, just a bit uncomfortable.” She paused for a long beat, staring at him. “I'm not bonded either,” she finally finished, voice soft as a whisper. 

Jon closed the book with a loud snap and chunked it onto the counter. He didn't care one wit that it slid off the other side and landed with a thunk onto the floor. 

Daenerys gave him a pained grimace that looked a lot like pity. It did nothing to help his mood. He shoved his hands into his hair and retreated to his office. 

She found him downing his second splash of whiskey, leaned against his doorway with her arms crossed over her stomach. “Are you alright?” she asked softly. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

He squinted at her. “Am I really so isolated? Compared to the rest of you?”

She winced and nodded her head. “We’re not jet-setting around the world constantly, but we still go places, have friends. See each other when our work lets us.”

“Do you know how big the North is?” he retorted, his voice rising higher than he’d wished. “The rest of you put together barely have as much to take care of as I do. And it's winter ten months out the year up here too.”

“Jon, you’ve allowed people to make up other myths surrounding your season...” 

He rolled his eyes and waved his glass filled hand dismissively. “They believe what they want to believe.”

_ Damn fickle humans. _

She took a few slow steps into the room and stopped on the other side of his desk. “You were given a purpose as all the rest of us were, but I think maybe... you’ve lost it?”

“I haven’t lost anything,” he snapped, slamming his glass down. “They replaced me. With  _ Christmas _ . Have they replaced you?”

“No. Not yet,” she said with a sigh and a sad shake of her head. “I know I’m lucky they still celebrate Beltane and Summer Solstice.” 

“You are,” he agreed and collapsed back into his chair. He scrubbed at his face, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Daenerys was taking abuse from him she didn’t deserve. He dropped his hands to the arms of his chair to find her sitting across from him, no judgement in her eyes at all. “I’m sorry for my uh… temper tantrum,” he apologized. “You didn’t deserve it.”

She gave him a gentle smile and a nod. “I’m sorry Christmas seems to have taken over their hearts.” 

He shook his head. He honestly didn’t blame them. “Winter isn’t like the others. It’s harsh and unforgivin’.”

She hummed, but tilted her head as she examined him for long enough he felt the need to squirm in his chair. “Perhaps that’s how you like it?” she surmised.

“It’s not.”

“You certainly appear to like being alone. I’ve asked about you around town,” she confessed. He raised an eyebrow at that. She didn't look the least bit ashamed of her nosiness. “Everyone says you keep to yourself. They believe you're a decent man, but an odd one.”

He shrugged. He didn't care what they thought about him. “It’s my lot. The decision was taken from my hands long ago.”

“It isn’t your  _ lot _ ,” she chided kindly. “It’s what you’ve made it to be.”

He huffed out a harsh breath and turned away from her knowing gaze to watch the snow still swirling outside his window. “You watch enough people you love die, and you stop extending yourself to others.”

“But you miss out on letting them be a part of your life. And you being a part of theirs. You’re not doing anyone any good by sitting up here all alone. Especially not yourself.”

She was getting under his skin and he didn't like it. He cut her a look. “If you came all the way from Dorne just to lecture me, you can go back.”

Her pretty eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she let out a sigh. “I didn’t, actually. I came just as I said. I was looking for someone and I’ve found him.”

“Why me?”

It was her turn to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. She chewed on her lip for a moment as she picked at her nails. Finally, she shrugged. “I’ve met the Water Warden, Yara. Autumn and Spring. Mother Nature.” She looked up, a small grin forming on her face. “She’s your sister in law's grandmother by the way. Feisty thing too. She's bonded to Father Time.”

“So I was just the last of us you hadn't met yet?”

“Well, yes and no. Robb has always waxed poetic about how beautiful the North is with all its snow, and recently Margaery and Davos were insisting I come up as well…” she trailed off, her eyes dropping to her hands again, plush bottom lip tucked tight between her teeth. She shrugged, and whatever discomfort she’d been feeling disappeared like a whiff of smoke, her smile returning as she looked back up at him. “I decided to see for myself what all the fuss was about.”

“I'm just a pit stop on your tour then, I suppose.”

A sheepish grin took over her beautiful face. “I thought having a guide would probably help me see the best parts?”

He gave a chuff. “Awful presumptuous of you, wouldn't you say?” he asked and poured himself another splash of whiskey.

“I guess,” she admitted. “But wouldn't you like to show off? Show me all your best bits?”

He nearly choked on his whiskey, coughing and sputtering as it burned his throat. “I best stay here and mind the store,” he grunted out between coughs. 

She was biting her lip when she pushed herself up out of her chair and pressed her palms to his desk, leaned over and gave him a cheeky grin. “C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“It died several hundred years ago,” he muttered, his eyes falling to the useless junk scattered on his desk. He couldn't hold her gaze when she was staring at him like that. His face was already flaming again. 

He saw her straighten from beneath his lashes, her hands going to her hips. “Jon Snow, I didn’t come all this way, with my dragon in a bag, for you to tell me you won’t be joining me on my adventure beyond the Wall.”

With a slow, deep breath he forced himself to look up at her. “Why d’you want to go beyond the Wall?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Why not? I’ve been to a lot of places, I want to see more. Even the far reaches most aren't brave enough to venture to.”

He shook his head. “I can’t just close up my shop.”

  
His lame excuse didn't impress if her apathetic expression meant anything. “How many customers have you had in here besides me in the last month?” she asked dull and dry, blinking slowly. 

A quick retort rose up, but died before it could leave his mouth. He huffed out a sigh. “None,” he mumbled.

“I'm sorry, what was that?”

He cut her a glare. The corner of her mouth twitched. “I’m not the adventure type anymore,” he tried.

She scowled at him fiercely, obviously annoyed. “So, you’d let me venture beyond the Wall without a guide?”

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “You’ll be fine. S’not like you can die again.”

She looked like she’d rather spit on him as look at him. With a shake of her head she turned toward the door. “It appears Southern hospitality extends farther than Northern. It was nice to meet you, Jon Snow,” she threw over her shoulder and disappeared from sight.

_ Let her go. Let her go… Let. Her. Go…  _

He was on his feet and running after her a breath later. She was already gathering her things and the sight had panic filling him. “Is that what you think?” he called out, suddenly desperate to keep her there. 

She didn't even bother to look over at him. “I wouldn’t let  _ you _ wander through the mountains of Dorne by yourself. In fact, I would be thrilled to be your guide. Show you the water gardens, the beaches, the mountains. Nothing compares to the beauty of Dorne.” She straightened and nearly snarled at him. “I’d be happy to rub it in your face.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “The South has nothin’ as majestic as the Wall.”

“Oh? Certain of that, are you?”

“Absolutely.”

She shrugged. “Well, I guess you’ll never know if I’m impressed or not, since you won't be there to see my reaction.” 

He looked around his shop in utter frustration. He didn't want her going alone, but going with her…  _ Days,  _ possibly  _ weeks _ of nothing but the two of them together…  _ Alone. _ It was terrifying. 

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. All her irritation was gone, nothing but gentleness in her beautiful eyes. “What do you really have to lose, Jon? Come with me. Please?”

_ Gods, how was he supposed to say no to that?  _

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You can barely tolerate the cold as it is. You really think you can handle travelin’ with me? Walkin’ miles in the freezin’ cold? Sleepin’ in a tent on top of snow and ice?”

She eyed him for a moment; then gave a wicked smile as she held up a hand. Flames engulfed it in a soft puff of air. He blinked in wonder. “I’m fairly good at warming myself up when needed,” she told him with a slow wink then licked her lips. “In more ways than one.”

Jon felt himself go red to the roots of his hair and down to his toes, a certain something stirring to life in between for the first time in so long he couldn’t remember. He heaved a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face, trying not to take her words as anything more than a gentle ribbing between colleagues. 

Soundly beaten, he walked to the rack he had filled with heavy coats. “First thing you’ll need is one of these.” He pulled out a bright red one and shoved it at her. She was still smiling at him, smug and wholly satisfied with herself. 

He growled at her and she laughed as he began pulling the equipment they’d need. He’d plan for contingencies, as well. Ropes and harnesses and clips. The last thing he needed was for her to fall into a crevasse and melt the North trying to get out. 

  
  



	2. Breaking My Heart and Breaking My Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Guardians start their adventure beyond the Wall and begin to learn much about each other and themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. We're resurfacing again lol. Things have been all over the place for us, but we're slowly but surely getting back on track. We have another chapter of this almost finished, just one more small scene for me to go through so look for us to post it in another week or two. We have the next chapter of Dragons going full force too, but it will be one hell of an emotional ride so please hang with us another few weeks or so on it so I can get it perfected. We have also started on our remix fic that will be going up completely finished sometime in May. So while we've been quiet we've still been writing and plan to keep on keeping on. 
> 
> That said, thanks for your patience and we hope you enjoy these two and their bantering. <3

_ Picture yourself in a room full of broken glass _

_ Blood on the pieces, the pieces you can't put back _

_ A little white light in a sea gone black _

_ My head is the room and the room's full of broken glass _

_ You can't change me _

_ Can you save me? _

_ Oh, clean eyes  _

_ Breaking my heart in all the right ways _

_ And no, I don't mind, clean eyes. Clean eyes _

_ Oh, clean eyes _

_ Breaking my heart and breaking my chains _

_ And I don't know why, clean eyes. Clean eyes _

_ I'm a cynic, I told you, I fear what I don't believe _

_ I don't know what this is, but this is a different beast _

_ I check the lock on the door three times _

_ Can't put my faith in what I can't describe _

_ I'm a cynic, I told you, I don't believe _

_ Can you save me? _

_ Oh, clean eyes _

_ Breaking my heart in all the right ways _

_ And no, I don't mind, clean eyes. Clean eyes _

_ Oh, clean eyes _

_ Breaking my heart and breaking my chains _

_ And I don't know why, clean eyes. Clean eyes _

_ Take me home when I lost myself _

_ Love me better than I love myself _

_ Well my head is the room and the room's filled with broken glass _

_ Take my home when I lost myself _

_ Well my head is the room and the room's filled with broken glass _

_ Oh, the pieces I can't put back _

_ Oh, clean eyesYou're breaking my heart in all the right waysAnd no, I don't mind, clean eyes.  _

_ Clean eyes, yeah _

_ Oh, clean eyes _

_ Breaking my heart and breaking my chains _

_ And I don't know why, clean eyes _

_ Take me home when I lost myself _

_ Oh, clean eyes _

_ Breaking my heart in all the right ways _

_ And no, I don't mind, clean eyes _

_ Take me home when I lost myself _

_ Oh, clean eyes _

_ Breaking my heart and breaking my chains _

_ And I don't know why, clean eyes. Clean eyes _

**_SYML — Clean Eyes_ **

**_Breaking My Heart and Breaking My Chains_ **

  
  


The same alarm that had sounded the day before began blaring on her phone again. She cursed under her breath and hurried off. He followed her at a somewhat slower pace, his curiosity getting the better of him. But he couldn't be too irritated with himself.

She had a damn dragon for gods’ sake. 

She was kneeling in front of the chair when he reached her, unzipping her bag. He froze in place as she reached in and plucked out her companion, which looked like nothing more than a fuzzy grey blanket. Until she peeled it open. The little thing stretched and squawked and Jon couldn't help but smile. He didn't expect it to be so  _ cute.  _ It was black as soot with bright red eyes much like Ghost’s. Who at that moment was slowly creeping closer to them. 

Before he could scold him, the dragon spotted him and let out a hiss, its wings flaring wide. Daenerys chuckled and shushed him, pulling a pouch from her bag and plucking out several pieces of raw meat. 

Jon still stood frozen in awe of the little creature, much like she had when she’d seen Ghost. She looked up at him with a smile and held her hand out to him. “Come pet him. He won’t bite. I don’t think,” she added in a murmur.

Slowly approaching, he dropped to a crouch beside her and carefully extended his hand. Red eyes stared through him while the tiny snout nudged and sniffed at his fingers. They trembled as he reached further, daring to run them down the dragon's arched neck.

He couldn’t believe how hot his scaly hide felt. Like running his fingers through flames. The little dragon pulled away after only a few seconds of his exploration and Daenerys fed him another piece of meat. Jon turned to her, knowing he must still look dazed but unable to care much. 

“Does he eat jerky? I’ve got plenty of that.”

She smirked. “He eats what he wants.”

He blinked at her. “Meanin’?”

Her smirk stayed firmly in place as she put her companion on the chair in front of them. Her eyes fell closed and she reached out one hand, waving it slowly over the dragon. A soft golden light began to glow from her palm and tiny sparks danced from the tips of her fingers, gathering together to swirl around the creature. 

Being magical himself he shouldn't have been as awestruck as he was, but her gift, her fire, was mesmerizing. 

Much to his shock the dragon was slowly growing larger. And larger. Within moments he was the size of Ghost and had the chair creaking beneath his weight. She pulled her hand away as the dragon straightened from his crouch, his head rising above them on his graceful neck, wings outstretched and ominous, their span at least eight feet. 

Jon fell back onto his arse, expecting a stream of fire to engulf him at any moment. Ghost quickly came to his defense, for whatever good it would do, standing over him, teeth bared.

Daenerys laughed, her dragon shrieked, and with another wave of her hand, the beast was small again. 

“Bloody hells,” he breathed out.

“Took decades to get that trick down,” she declared with a smile. “I can make him large enough to hunt on his own if he needs to. And since the area beyond the Wall is unpopulated, I think I can let him out for that. Really let him be free for awhile.”

The little beast hopped from the chair and made a beeline to the hearth and settled himself inside the fire. Just curled up for a nap pretty as you please. 

Jon chuffed at the wonder of it all and finally gave Ghost a rub and a gentle push off him.

Daenerys was already on her feet. She looked down at him, smirking again, her hand held out. “He’ll be fine in there for a bit. Let's finish gathering up the gear.”

  
  


—

  
  


He called Sam and asked him to mind the store when the mood struck him and didn't do much explaining when Sam peppered him with questions. Only he needed some time away and wasn't sure when he’d be back. If Sam didn't feel up to keeping the store open, it was no big deal.

It took a good two hours to gather enough gear, get himself packed, and then swing by her hotel to get her things. But soon enough, they had his Jeep loaded down and were making the long drive to the Wall. 

They spent the first thirty minutes in silence much to his discomfort. He had no idea what to talk about, or how to even strike up a conversation with her. Just being in such close proximity to her had him squirming in his seat like some agitated child unable to sit still. Thank gods he had had the good sense to shed his coat before he gotten behind the wheel. He was sweating even without it. 

Lucky for him she seemed content to stare out the window and take in the scenery. 

Ghost shifted in the back seat and Jon’s eyes flicked to the ruby red ones staring back at him in the rearview mirror. If it was just the two of them he’d probably be droning away, but then again Ghost always agreed with him. Or he usually did. At the moment he was giving Jon a look that was more than a little unimpressed. 

He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out with a sigh and forced himself to speak. “Enjoyin’ the view?”

She turned a brilliant smile on him. “Yes! It truly is beautiful. So pristine and untouched. There's something magical about it,” she added with a wink.

Much to his annoyance, his face heated, his ears even burning. No one ever appreciated what he did, not for long anyway. Maybe she would be different, though he didn't have much hope.

“How long will it take us to get there?”

“‘Bout two more hours to the Wall itself,” he answered.

“How far do you think we can make it today once we cross through?”

He chuckled. “Depends on how long you hold up. We’ll have to hike from there.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait... You can't drive through it?”

“Nope,” he answered with a shake of his head. “It’s not built to allow cars through. Horses at most. Though some fly helicopters over.”

She scrunched up her face and turned away to look back out the window for a while. He bit back another chuckle. She'd be ready to head back south in two days at most. Her stubbornness would keep her going for that long.

“Did you ever visit while it was active?” she asked a few minutes later.

“Aye. Had to take care of a problem lingering in the mountains.”

That peaked her interest. She twisted towards him in a swish of nylon. “What kind of problem?”

He grinned. Most would never believe his tale, but she probably would. “There was a… necromancer, warlock, witch… Whatever you want to call the fools who think they're wise enough to wield magic. He’d hid himself beyond the Wall. Decided raisin’ the dead was a good idea and needed somewhere quiet to do it.”

Her mouth fell open in shock, eyes wide as saucers.  _ “What?  _ You cannot be serious.”

He nodded, laughing a bit at her outrage. “It gets worse. He was doin’ it to create an army to take over the world. Wanted to kill off all the humans and raise them up to make his Army of the Dead. He even had a fancy name for himself. The Night King.”

She shook her head at him, her beautiful face slack with disbelief. “I’ve never heard such… Idiotic… Good gods,” she hissed, suddenly the embodiment of her gift. All raging fire. “I can't believe how foolish humans can be sometimes.”

Jon let himself laugh at that, she was not wrong. “Agreed. I'm almost ashamed I was one once.”

“I can understand that,” she muttered. “What happened with this foolish human?”

“I managed to get into his hideout and kill him.”

“Good. Hopefully he didn't give you too much trouble.”

“Nothing I couldn't handle. I wasn't half bad with a sword back in the day.”

He was watching the road, but he could feel her stare as good as a branding iron against his skin. He grabbed his water bottle and chugged some, thankful for the icy liquid. Anything to cool him down.

“How long ago has it been?”

He knew what she meant, her voice having taken on a much softer tone. He shook his head. “I don’t remember, really. It was after you. When I met Davos he told me summer and fire already had their Guardian.”

“So a thousand years, give or take?”

He smirked. “Give or take,” he repeated. “It’s just been me and Ghost.”

“Why haven’t you tried to forge relationships?”

“I did at first,” he admitted. “But after you watch enough people you care about die…” He shrugged, wishing he could throw off the melancholy that always hung about his neck. But it was hopeless, it felt as permanent as his existence. “I just stopped tryin’.”

A quiet sigh left her. “I understand that sentiment all too well. But it gets too lonely, after a while. I can't take it, even with Drogon for company. That’s why I like to travel when I can.”

“How long you been doin’ that?”

“Ten years, maybe? I had a flip phone when I started,” she said with a small laugh. “But I get to meet people and find interesting little hamlets.”

“When d’you leave Essos?”

“I moved to Dorne several years after I received my gift.”

“Why, if you don't mind me askin’?”

“Oh, I started a revolution,” she said as if it were nothing. 

He couldn't help but laugh. “What? Really?”

She nodded. “I did. They were slavers. I helped them see the error of their ways.”

“Wow, impressive,” he breathed out. If he hadn't felt half the guardian she was before, he sure did now. “How’d you do that exactly?”

“Razed a city or two,” she said with a grimace. His eyebrows jump into his hairline of their own accord. “I couldn’t always control my powers,” she rushed on at his shock. “My temper would cause it to explode. Seeing people exploited seemed to make me rage. Before I knew it, I burned a city and had a reputation. The people freed themselves. But I think it helped that they had an ally that couldn’t be hurt or killed.”

_ Damn.  _

“I’ll have to remember not to piss you off,” he teased before he could stop himself. 

Daenerys cut him a sly smile. “Oh, I don't know, that might be fun.”

Of course his damn face flushed in an instant at her teasing. Apparently it was going to be his constant state around her. 

He cleared his throat and turned his concentration to the road again. “Learnin’ control was difficult,” he said, moving them back to safer ground. “My moods could bury a town in snow in the early days. It happened more times than I like to admit.”

“Is that why there’s so little sunshine?”

He glanced at her, scowling. “What d’you mean?”

“Earlier today, back at the store… You’re rather broody and it kinda shows,” she said pointing up to the roof over their heads.

His hackles rose, the truth never fun to hear. “Sorry if I haven’t adapted to this life as easily and cheerfully as others.”

“This life isn’t easy,” she agreed, surprising him. “We suffer for what we have. But that doesn’t mean we suffer forever. We were given a gift—“

“Mine feels more like a curse,” he interrupted.

She looked out the windshield, a soft smile on her face. “It’s so beautiful, though. So pure. It took my breath away when I first saw it.” She turned back to him. “Still does. Do you not think so?”

He shrugged. They could move onto another conversation anytime. The trip was going to be hard enough without her psychoanalyzing him the entire time. 

“You’ve lost the awe our world deserves,” she said, much more of a statement than a question.

He didn't bother replying, his jaw locked tight in frustration. Quiet took over again but soon she was messing with the dials of the radio, finally settling on a station playing eighties music. 

He rolled his eyes. “I knew you’d be into pop.”

She pulled a face. “Ugh, you’re not a music snob, too, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“ _ Oh, their second album has more of a pop feel and that’s when I knew they sold out,”  _ she mimicked something he knew he’d actually said to someone. He rolled his eyes again and she started laughing. “You are! So, tell me all the reasons why you love Roy Orbison.”

He whipped his head around to look at her. “That’s a generalization.”

“Is it untrue?”

“I bet you’re rather cliche too. You listen to anything with a beat, right? The same beat all songs have these days.”

She snorted. “If the beat wasn’t good, they wouldn’t use it so often. Just because something is common does not make it bad.”

“And just because it’s niche doesn’t make it bad, either,” he grumbled.

They grew quiet again, her awful music hurting his head until she smirked over at him. “You do love Roy Orbison, don’t you?”

He cut her a look, teeth gritted. “I’ll make you walk to the Wall.”

Her laughter filled the car and pushed his irritation out with it, and despite himself he was laughing right along with her.

_ Gods, it had been so long. Too long.  _

  
  


—

  
  


Thanks to the chains on his tires they were parked in a copse of trees at the old Castle Black ruins not quite two hours later. Daenerys had been staring out of the windshield in awe for the past twenty minutes and he couldn't help but take advantage of her distraction to stare at her. She truly was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

How he’d survive the next several days with her was anyone's guess. The ones that followed after she left worried him most. 

She finally climbed out, pulled her hood over her head, and just stood stone still beside the car. With a grin he got out as well and went to the back, opening the hatch and gathering up their packs. His was considerably heavier than hers, even with a dragon tucked inside. He and Ghost would be carrying the weight, he didn't want to load her down and make the trip any harder than it already would be for her. Once he had Ghost harnesses and hooked to his little sled and it loaded down, he joined Deanerys where she still stood staring up at the Wall. She glanced at him and he was marveled to see tears slowly sliding down her cheeks. And her smile, he wasn't quite sure how to describe it, but it was making his chest tight.

“You see pictures and live as long as we do…” She slowly shook her head. “You think you’ve seen everything. But I was... _ not _ prepared for this. By any means,” she whispered, wiping at her tears. 

He probably should've thanked her for forcing him along, for allowing him to see her wonder, she’d been damn right about it at any rate. Instead he held her pack out for her and she slipped her arms inside the straps. “Then let’s get you closer, shall we?” he offered softly and her bright violet eyes shone up at him, her smile growing wider on her plush lips. 

She gave an eager nod and he led the way, his heart hammering and Ghost bounding along beside them. 

As he knew she would, she’d barely made it halfway to the gate before she was struggling in the knee deep snow, falling behind and huffing out heavy breaths to smoke and swirl around her pretty head. “You could clear an easier path, you know?” she called at his back.

He threw a smirk at her over his shoulder as he chuckled. “I could. But I believe you wanted the true experience, didn’t you?”

“If we’re going to be hiking for days, you need to lighten up on the snow and ice if you want me to keep up,” she grumbled.

Well, if she wanted a path, he’d give it to her. She'd shown off a bit, why couldn't he? 

“As you wish.” He stopped and she did as well once she reached his side, watching with wide eyes as he held out his hands. With a twist of his wrists he had the snow and ice swept away from their feet and rising up beside them in waves of white until it formed together over their heads, a frozen canopy of sparkling crystal blues. 

She grinned up at him and gave a nod. “Now,  _ that’s _ style,” she laughed. “Thank you, sir.”

He might have preened a bit, but thankfully she had already walked ahead to the large iron gate that sat locked in front of them and wasn't privy to it. 

Once he reached the gate, he placed his hand on the lock. Soon enough the mechanism within was creaking as he froze it solid. With a kick from his boot it crumbled to pieces and he pulled the gate open for them. Ghost ran ahead, prancing around the abandoned yard, his sled following him around everywhere he went. They didn't need to tarry so Jon crossed the yard to the tunnel that led to the other side of the Wall. It was nearly filled with snow and ice and frozen over save for a tight footpath. He had it cleared after only a few seconds of concentrating on it. It felt good to be exercising his powers again, he hadn't realized how he’d missed it.

He turned to find her standing on the platform for the elevator that used to go to the top of the Wall which was hidden by thick grey clouds. “What was it like? Being here all those years ago?” her voice echoed across the yard and he wandered over to join her.

“The men who guarded the Wall had a point and purpose. They believed in their cause of keepin’ the Wildlings on the other side. But after a while, they stopped havin’ a mission. Criminals and bastards were sent here. Forgotten about. It was more of a prison really. So much misery in one place,” he said softly. “Several of them were good men. They went with me beyond the Wall.”

  
“Did they come back?”

“Two did,” he sighed, remembering his long lost friends. “I kept tabs on them until they died of old age here at the Wall.”

She moved over to the railing. “How long ago was that?”

He scratched a hand over his beard. “I don’t even remember,” he admitted. “I stopped keepin’ time. It’s just easier that way.”

Her braids swung as she craned her head back and stared up at the elevator. “Did you ever see the top of it?”

“I did,” he said with a grin. “Watched a man known as the Imp piss off the side of it, just as he said he would.”

“What a horrid nickname,” she said as she came down the stairs to stand beside him. “I guess that elevator no longer works?” she asked. 

“Not for a long time, sorry.”

She was smiling up at him, standing closer than necessary, leaving him rooted and rattled. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were adorably pink and he was having to fight back a horrifying need to kiss her.

He glanced around at the buildings that still stood, anywhere else but at her as he rubbed at his hot neck. “We can go inside for a bit if you want. Let you get warmer.”

“No. I’m fine. If I get too uncomfortable, I’ll tell you. I promise,” she said. “Thank you for the offer though.”

He gave a nod and gestured to the tunnel, letting himself return some of the smile she was giving him. They made the long trek through in silence, save for their crunching footsteps and the grating slide of Ghost’s sled across the ice. The whisk of Daenerys’ gloved hand as she ran it along the tunnel’s knobby wall, smiling all the while. When they reached the other side, she simply stood there for a moment and took in her first sight of the far North.

Jon hadn’t seen anyone look at the world as she did in so long he had no memory of it. She was awed, mesmerized, and  _ happy. _ It was shining from her face like sunlight itself. Smile soft, eyes sparkling. He didn’t think anyone could feel that way looking at ice and snow. He knew he didn’t. Maybe she had the better of it, though. Perhaps he just needed to see it from a different perspective.

He cleared the way for her much as he had at Castle Black, only without the fancy tunnel. “Last chance to back out,” he offered with a grin. 

Her pretty purple eyes narrowed at him playfully. “You're not getting off that easy, Jon Snow. Onward.” 

“It was worth a shot,” he said with an overly dramatic sigh that actually made her laugh. 

While his stomach swirled with something he wasn't sure he'd ever felt they began their journey in earnest, Ghost already far ahead. They were nearing the Haunted Forest before she spoke again.

“Did you ever attend university?”

A bit thrown off by the randomness of the question he faltered enough she stopped and looked back at him, eyebrows raised. “Umm, no,” he mumbled and started them on their way again. “I like to read, tend to do it as much as I can. Don’t really see the need to pay someone to tell me  _ what _ to read. Did you?”

“Several times,” she admitted. 

“How’d that work out?”

“I have several PhDs.”

He pursed his lips and nodded, impressed. “That's great, but... how exactly? Not all at the same school I’m guessin’?”

“Oh no, I would just enroll in a school when I wanted to go. I spaced it out. Made sure no one I knew from before had moved there and used variations on my name. Daenerys Targaryen. Daenerys Stormborn. Daenerys Storm. Dany Storm.”

“Stormborn?” he questioned as they entered the edge of the forest.

“Mmm hmm, I was given that name when I was born. Apparently, I came into the world during the worst storm in a century. So, several people within my household called me Daenerys Stormborn. It’s worked well for me over the years.”

“And Dany?”

“Nickname my brother used for me.”

“Only sibling?” he asked, unable to stop himself from peppering her with questions. 

She gave a slow shake of her head. “I had two brothers. One died before I was born. The other wasn’t very nice to me as we were growing up, so I don’t talk about him. He died not long before I did,” she said softly. 

“I’m sorry. Didn't mean to bring up a bad subject.” 

“It's alright,” she assured him, but he could see and hear the melancholy that had taken her. He knew it well enough. “As for my parents, I didn’t know either of them,” she went on. “My father died a month or so before I was born and my mother died giving birth to me.”

“My mother did as well.”

She threw him a pained smile and he couldn't help but return it. The kinship he was feeling towards her was digging itself deeper and deeper, filling cracks he’d been ignoring for obvious reasons. It scared the shit out of him. 

“Who raised you?” he asked, before he could think on it too hard.

“My brother did for a while. It’s a... long and complicated story that I don’t like to relive if I can avoid it,” she said softly. 

He certainly understood that. “You ask me something then.”

Her responding smile had his chest going tight again. “Alright, tell me more about this Night King and how you defeated him.”

Jon chuckled. “I don’t even know where to start.”

She tilted her head as she watched Ghost prance ahead of them, stop and turn back to watch them before taking off again. He definitely wanted them to hurry up. Jon usually kept pace with him whenever they were out hiking. “How about when you first heard about him,” Daenerys said, bringing him around to their conversation again.

He thought back, finding it far easier to remember the bad things than the good. “I’d go into the villages on occasion, to keep check on things. Before long I heard the people murmuring about an evil living beyond the Wall. I thought, as most Northerners did, they meant the Wildlings. But we were wrong. It somehow got around to one of the Wildlings that had made it over the Wall who I was and what I could do. Tormund was his name... After all these years I’ll never forget his face. Wild blue eyes and wilder flaming hair. Burned into my brain,” he said with a chuckle. “One of the best friends I ever had.”

He glanced at her to see her smiling at his story. He cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts again. She distracted him like nothing else ever had. 

“Tormund told me about the Night King and the danger he posed to his people. I didn’t believe him at first, but went back over the Wall with him to see for myself. He took me to a camp that had been decimated. Everyone there was dead. Had been for weeks by the looks of them. Dozens of half rotted bodies littering the ground. I’ll never forget how earily quiet it was, until it wasn't.”

“What d’you mean?”

“The wind. It began to howl, snow and ice blowin’ everywhere. The sky grew black. The strength of the cold that came over us…” He trailed off, shaking his head. It had been so like falling beneath the ice, feeling death embrace him. 

“Were you that upset?” 

He looked into her beautiful eyes. “I wasn't doin’ any of it.”

Her mouth fell open. “Oh gods.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Just like that, the dead were risin’ up, standin’, then runnin’ right for us.” He grasped the straps of his pack, missing for the first time in years the weight of his sword in his hands. The hilt gripped tight in his palms.

“What happened?” she asked, eyes wide.

“After panickin’ for a few seconds, I froze ‘em all in place. Then came figurin’ out how to undo the spell. We found out they could be killed by fire, dragonglass, and do you remember Valyrian steel?”

“Oh, yes! Those blades were hard to come by.”

Jon nodded. “I inherited one from a man I saved. They fell into a heap of bones with one swipe from it. After that was finding who was doin’ it. It took a while, but eventually, with Tormund’s help we figured out where most of the dead were comin’ from. His people were migratin’ south and they didn’t always burn their dead. So this necomancer was going to these burial sites and usin’ the corpses to build his army. The men in command at the Wall wouldn't let the Wildlings south to cut off his supply of bodies. But I convinced a few of them to come with me to find him and kill him. A good portion of Wildlings came with us as well. We marched north until we found the fortress he’d had the dead build him,” he shook his head. “Some of the soldiers were nothing more than animated bones.”

Daenerys heaved a sigh, her brow pulled down as she listened and trudged through the snow. He cleared a path for her again and she mouthed a ‘thank you’, her nose scrunched adorably. He grinned and went on with his tale.

“So, when we got inside, we found him standin’ at this altar made of bone and he was summonin’ the dead to him. He had these blue eyes I’ll never forget as long as I live and his skin looked as if it was made of ice. But I realized it was a spell he’d done to himself in order to survive in the climate. We fought but his powers were weak due to all those he’d resurrected and he wasn’t much for fightin’. I stabbed him through the heart with my sword and took his head for good measure.”

“And that didn’t kill him, did it?”

He looked over at her in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Well, I can’t imagine a necromancer is going to be alright with his own death. He would’ve found a workaround.”

“He did,” he answered with a chuckle. “I had to fight his body as his head was still dronin’ out spells at my feet. And get this,” he scoffed, tapping her on the arm, “He fuckin’ bit me on the ankle.”

She burst out laughing, the sweet sound filling the quiet forest around them. “He did not!?”

“He did! I kicked his bloody head clear across the room,” he laughed. It hadn't been the least bit funny then, but telling her, seeing her laugh, hearing it… 

He was glad it had happened. 

“We finally figured out we had to destroy the altar and his book. Once those were gone the head withered and turned to dust in the wind. So did everything else.”

“That is quite a tale, Jon Snow,” she murmured, giving him a look of appreciation that had his stomach twisting and fluttering. “If it wasn't for you, the whole world might’ve gone to shit.”

Heat once again burned up his neck and across his cheeks. He gave a soft chuff and ducked his head. “I think I did what any of us would’ve done. Came back every now and then to make sure he hadn't figured out how to return, too, but there’s been nothing since.”

“Well, I appreciate you taking care of him so none of the rest of us had to.”

Ghost trotted up and circled around them before he could acknowledge her thanks and Jon realized how far they’d gone in so little time. They were deep within the forest, maybe even halfway to Caster’s Keep, but the light was beginning to fade. It never lasted long within the trees. 

“We should make camp,” he told her.

“Are you going to build us a nice ice house to sleep in?” she teased. 

With a chuckle he looked over at her. “I have a feelin’ you wouldn’t last long in an ice house. Or it wouldn't last.”

“You're probably right,” she admitted then suddenly smiled at him. “I suppose I could show off, now.” 

She removed her glove and tucked her hand warmer into her pocket before holding her hand out. Her palm began to glow, just as it had back at the store. Instead of her dragon bursting out of her pack and growing into a fearsome beast, the snow at their feet melted away and soon the earth beneath it was dry as bone. 

Properly impressed he gave her a grateful nod and slipped his pack off and set it on the dry ground, clucking at Ghost to come round so he could unload the sled. 

“What else can I do to help?” she asked. 

He thought it over as he pulled the two tents he’d packed for them from the sled. “If you can find some wood for a fire, I can set these up,” he told her, looking up and catching what he thought was a flash of disappointment crossing her pretty face. 

It was gone just a quick, and her smile came back. “Of course. I’ll let Drogon out, too.”

She slipped her bag onto the ground, unzipping it as she squatted down in front of it. A squawk sounded from inside and suddenly her little dragon was crawling up her arm and perched on her shoulder. He nuzzled into her neck, giving a rolling purr as she brushed her nose against his snout. 

He was still such a marvel to see. 

Daenerys settled him onto the ground and backed away from him. Jon did the same, motioning Ghost to move on as well. She didn't hesitate and unleashed her magic over the little thing and Jon watched in awe once again as he grew ever larger until finally he was standing over them both. Towering was more like it. 

Instead of his usual squawk he released a roar Jon felt in his bones and rumble through the ground beneath his feet. His show of force made Drogon nudge Daenerys, nearly knocking her down, but with a laugh she wrapped her arms around him as best she could and the dragon closed his eyes, reveling in the attention she was giving him. 

Unbidden, images flashed through Jon’s mind. Her arms around him. Soft, warm hands running over his bare skin. Heat glowing in her eyes as she stared at him just as bare, his own hands mapping her hot skin. 

A deep pulse of raw want ran through him the likes of which he hadn't felt in an age, heating his blood and other parts as well.

He shook himself and turned away from the sight of them. He was losing it. Wanting impossible things. 

She began to give Drogon orders in Valyrian, low and soft. 

It was a beautiful language from her lips. He wanted to hear more of it. Murmured to  _ him _ . In the dark. In the quiet. No one but the two of them shut away from the world.

He rolled his eyes at himself with a huff as he went back to Ghost, sorting through their gear and getting it all unloaded. A snap of leather had his head whipping around to see Drogon with his wings outstretched. He flapped them once and lifted from the ground. The force of the wind was nearly enough to knock Jon on his arse. With another few flaps the dragon was soaring into the air and soon out of sight. 

His eyes flicked to Daenerys. She was staring at him, expression pensive. It flashed away, and again, a smile appeared on her pretty mouth. 

He had to stop staring at her mouth. Stop staring at her at all. He had to force himself to treat her as a friend and just a friend. It was insane to get attached to the woman who was the embodiment of summer and fire. Not when his existence was the exact opposite of hers. 

It would never work.

“I’ll go gather that wood now,” she called over her shoulder and set off into the trees. 

Ghost nudged him with his snout and Jon looked at the wolf, understanding easily. 

He took the last pack off the sled. “Go with her,” he muttered and Ghost trotted off after her. 

By the time she came back, Ghost pulling the sled, heavy with dried wood, he had the first tent up and the second nearly done. He gave a nod of thanks, but kept working, watching her from the corner of his eyes. She unhooked Ghost from his burden and sent him on his way with a good scratch before getting busy with her chore. Before long she had assembled the small logs and sticks into what he knew would soon be an impressive fire. He should’ve known she’d be able to do that to perfection. 

He finished the tent and joined her as she settled the last log in place. Shoving his hands into his pockets he smiled at her. “I suppose you’ll do the honors?” he joked.

She gave a queenly nod. “Of course I will.” She held her hand out over the logs and within a blink they were ablaze, the flames far higher than he would’ve expected. A rather large ember flew up into the air suddenly and he watched in horror as it went straight into one of the tents. He moved to go swat it out, but had only taken two steps before the tent was barely more than ash. Gone up in a flash of flame within seconds. He froze, staring at the charred spot, blinking in shock. 

“Oops.”

He spun back around at her apology expecting her to be embarrassed, or at least regretful, but she didn’t appear to feel either of those things. In fact, he thought she looked rather smug. 

“Sorry,” she said with a shrug and picked up her sleeping bag and tossed it into the one remaining tent, her backpack followed before she turned around and gave him a pretty smile. “Looks like we’ll have to share.”

He ran a hand over his beard, his own lips twitching. From humor or irritation he wasn't sure. No way in hells would he be getting any sleep with her lying inches away from him. He cut her a look. “Why do I feel like you did that on purpose?”

She had gone back to the fire and was knelt in front of it, holding her hands to the flames. She scoffed at him. “I would never,” she said, her tone indignant but her smirk betrayed her. 

“Really?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest and giving her a glower. 

She looked up at him, her eyes shining bright in the firelight. “I was simply excited to show off my powers for you and it slipped.”

_ “Slipped? _ Interestin’ choice of words.”

She shrugged again, nonplussed. “It happens from time to time.” She turned back to the fire, wiggling her fingers within the dancing flames. “Don’t you ever have slips?”

Teeth clenched, he grabbed his bag and bed roll and threw them into the tent with her things before joining her. He’d agreed to this trip of theirs, if he was suffering it was as much his own fault as hers. He sighed as he sat down, further away from the fire, but still somewhat beside her. “My slips don’t look like that,” he noted.

She quickly turned away, clearing her throat before facing the fire again. “No, I imagine they don’t. I would think your slips were more like blizzards.” He didn’t respond, just stared into the flames. She wasn't wrong. “It’s alright,” she murmured after a short silence. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He brought a knee up and rested his arm on it, leaned back on his other hand. “I don’t use my powers much.”

“Why not?” she asked quietly.

“What’s the point?”

“That you can,” she answered quickly. “I mean, don’t you ever just…” A wicked grin took her. “Make slushies for yourself or a snowball and hit someone in the back of the head?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head and a chuff of amusement. “Do you do things like that?”

“I don’t throw fireballs,” she assured him with a smile. “Unless someone really deserves it. But I’ve been known to light a bonfire, or fireworks. Dip my toes into a volcano...”

His jaw dropped. “A  _ real _ volcano?” 

“Yes, a real volcano,” she laughed. “I mainly did it to see if I could.”

“And it went alright?”

“It was like swimming in a pool for me. And the best part…” she teased, her hand reaching out to give his knee a gentle shove, “When you come out of it, you have no clothes on. It terrifies the natives to see someone walk out of a volcano naked.” That wicked grin she’d worn earlier made another appearance. “I might have a few statues dedicated to me in the Southern Isles.”

_ Bloody hells.  _

She was trying to kill him. 

Knowing the image would be seared into his brain for eternity he shifted about, brow furrowed, eyes firmly on the fire. “The North isn’t like that. People are more reserved and buttoned up.”

“Oh, are they?” she asked, challenge laced in her tone.

“You don’t think so?”

“What about the hot springs?”

“What about ‘em?”

“I’ve heard of some rather debauched happenings with those.”

He shook his head, dismissing it even though he’d taken part in such debauchery once long ago. 

_ Godsdamnit. _

Now he had another image in his mind to torture himself with. 

Him in a hot spring… With her.

“Winter is cruel,” he retorted, beyond frustrated with his eager imagination. “It’s hard. There's not much enjoyment to be found in it.”

She frowned and moved closer to him and he could easily feel the heat radiating from her body. It had his every nerve tingling. He forced himself to not move a muscle. “You’ve been alone for a long time,” she murmured.

“What does that have to do with anythin’?” he snipped.

His animosity didn't seem to bother her. She leaned back on her hands and stared at the flames. “You don’t really interact with the people in town. They know you and you know them, but they aren’t involved in your life and you aren’t involved in theirs. Keeping yourself cut off like that can only make your isolation feel more intense.”

“And you know about my isolation, do you?”

“I didn't,” she admitted. “But it's easy enough to see now. Reminds me of how I once was. Can still be if I allow myself,” she trailed off softly.

He stared at her, not believing she could've ever felt as he did. She was too bright. Too happy and alive. Too at peace with herself.

Her tongue slipped out and ran across her plump lips. Her eyes never left the flames. “When Davos urged me to visit it was because I hadn't been myself as of late. He’d noticed. So had Margaery. They conspired to get me up here I think. I thought at first it was only for me.” She turned to him, those eyes keeping him pinned in place, his heart racing. “Once I met you…” A pained smile graced her face. “Well, I thought if anyone could understand how I felt about the world it would be you. But I can see you don’t share my point of view.”

The accusation scalded him, whether she meant it to or not. “Is that so?” he sneered, unable to stop himself. 

The fire crackled and popped, the wind picking up around them and whipping at the flames. 

“You’ve given up,” she claimed. He didn’t deny her words, nor did he confirm them. “You’re just existing. You don’t even try to control your powers which are clearly tied to your emotions,” she said as she looked up. 

He followed her gaze, disgruntled to see it was beginning to snow. The treetops swaying, dropping even more on them. When he turned back to her she was giving him a soft understanding smile. 

“It’s hard to watch people you love die,” she went on. “To let yourself get invested in them because their lives are fleeting. I’ve been there, believe me. Recently, in fact. But I think you’re missing the point.”

“Am I?” he asked, curtly, though he was doing his best to listen and also trying to keep them from being buried in snow from his swirling emotions. She was picking him apart too easily, and watching the clouds gather above them was only confirmation she was either able to read him better than he could himself or she  _ did _ know exactly how he felt. He let out a heavy sigh and met her gaze again. “What’s the point?”

“You might think it doesn’t matter if you’re in their lives, but everyone impacts someone. Think about a lake. You drop a rock in and it creates ripples that continue on even though the stone has dropped straight to the bottom. Touching someone's life can bring you as much peace as them touching yours. Shutting yourself off doesn’t help them or you. It only makes the loneliness worse.”

“And I suppose you have a close circle of friends?”

She looked over at him and gave a small nod. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I’m not a person who likes to be alone. There are many people I care for, have cared for, that live in Dorne, and elsewhere,” she said.

There was a sadness in her words. He hadn't missed her mention of a recent loss either. It was hard not to admire her strength in forging forward. Her willingness to keep herself open. Searching for more people and places to share her light with. While there was little promise in his heart they could make a more intimate relationship work, just the thought of having a friend who would never fade away as all the others had was tightening his chest. Filling it with hope.

He shifted again, sitting forward. “How do you explain your absences?” he asked, treading lightly around the subject again.

“The world has changed, Jon. We no longer send letters by ravens or carriers. Friends are just a click of a button away. It's easy to stay close these days.” She flashed him another easy smile. “When I leave the North, I’d really like to stay in touch with you too. After all, you’re one of the few people I’ve met who can understand this journey I’m on. All its splendor,  _ and _ all its heartbreak.”

He sighed again and scratched at his beard, her words affecting him far more than he cared for. “It’s... easier not to get involved,” he found himself saying, his usual excuses quick to leap from his tongue.

She nodded. “It is. But it’s also lonelier.”

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“Have you?”

“You don’t think so?”

A soft smile was aimed his way and he could only gaze back at her, breathless. “Oh, I agree, you are probably one of the best brooders I’ve ever seen. Your brother was right about that.” A shock of heat erupted in his fingers. He looked down to see hers picking his hand up. He was too stunned by the electricity running through him to pull away, just watched as her fingers laced through his. “You gave in so easily into travelling with me. Perhaps you needed this trip as much as I did?” she suggested, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

The biting heat he’d first felt at her touch was fading into something he didn't have the words to describe. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt such a flurry of feelings. An unrivaled jumble of furor and fear, want and worry. Surely he’d felt it before.  _ Maybe before he died? Or was it after? Or never? _ “Givin’ yourself a lot of credit, aren’t you?” he managed after clearing his throat. 

“Oh, you mean it wasn’t my winning personality that persuaded you?” she teased with a cheeky wink.

He rolled his eyes, hating the blush he felt on his face. She was too damn good at this. “Somethin’ like that.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “All I’m saying is maybe you aren’t as good with being alone as you think you are,” she offered gently, giving his hand another squeeze before she let him go and suddenly stood. “I’m going to get the marshmallows!”

Wholly unsettled, yet yearning for her touch again he watched her scurry into the tent and rummage through her bag before she came back with two skewers and a brown paper bag. She pulled out chocolate, graham crackers, and a bag of fat marshmallows, her eyes dancing with glee. “I trust you know how to make s’mores?” she asked as she sat beside him again.

Biting back a grin, he narrowed his eyes at her and took one of the skewers. “Give me the bag,” he grumbled and she laughed as she handed it over. 

They spent the rest of the evening roasting marshmallows in front of the fire, talking of everything and nothing as they ate their sticky sweet treats. Until Drogon came back that is, dropping a burnt stag beside the fire with a wet smack. The moment Jon saw him tear into the animal with gusto, skin and sinew stretching and snapping, guts spilling out, he lost his appetite. Ghost, however, was whining as he watched him devour it, tongue licking and lapping at his lips.

Dany reached out a hand and scrubbed the wolf at the scruff. “Be patient. He’ll share,” she said and Drogon suddenly looked up at her and narrowed his red eyes. “You will share or you’ll go back in the bag,” she scolded him.

Jon swore he saw the beast’s lips snarl, but he ripped a leg from the charred stag and tossed it towards Ghost. His wolf snatched it up happily and pranced around to the other side of Dany to eat. She chuckled and tucked their own snacks back into the bag and stood. “Well, I’m beat,” she said as she looked down at him. “Suppose we should go to bed.”

His heart was racing in a flash. He wasn't sure what her tone was implying, but his palms were suddenly sweating. She didn’t mean it the way he took it. They’d be friends. Maybe good friends. But she was going to go back south when this adventure was over for her. She'd have to, and he would have to stay put. 

He wiped his hands on his pants before shoving himself to his feet. She was already inside the tent, her boots setting just outside it. He removed his own and crawled inside to find her unrolling her sleeping bag. After tossing his boots down he unzipped his and did the same, pulling out the small travel pillow he’d brought. They’d be only inches from each other in the cramped confines and his nerves were already cinched tight. It was going to be a long fucking night. If he’d known she was going to turn one of his tents to ash he would've brought a family size one, but there was nothing for it now. 

She was pulling on another pair of thick socks from her bag over her feet as she sat on top of her open sleeping bag. Her jacket still on, and her beanie too.

He wanted to laugh, but swallowed it down as he shed his extra layers and dropped down onto his sleeping bag and attempted to get himself settled. Soon she was laying down as well and he was left trying to ignore her squirming. Whether it was the hard ground or the cold she couldn't seem to keep still, buried within her thick cocoon. He’d packed her the heaviest one he had. She was facing him too, he could feel her staring. 

He finally sighed and looked over at her as she squirmed a bit more. “You alright?”

“It’s much colder in here without the fire,” she muttered. “Just keeping the blood circulating.”

He sat up and grabbed his coat before raising up on his knees beside her and draping it over her. It was useless to him, after all. He was damn near sweating as it was being so close to her. He quickly laid back down and tucked an arm beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling of the tent. 

She sighed and shifted a bit. “Thank you.”

“If you can't get warm enough I’ll call Ghost in here. He’ll keep you warm.”

A long silence stretched until his nerves felt ready to snap. “I’ll let you know,” she finally whispered. “Goodnight, Jon. Thank you for coming with me.”

He smiled despite himself. “Thanks for askin’. Hope you sleep.”

“You too.”

It was a kind sentiment, but not bloody likely.

He closed his eyes and hoped for the best.

  
  


*~*

  
  
  


Her rattling teeth woke her. She was freezing! Shivering and shuddering inside her sleeping bag, the extra layers on top doing a lot of nothing to keep her warm. The world was growing lighter behind her eyelids and her companion was shifting about beside her so she opened her eyes and nearly gasped to find Jon pulling his T-shirt off over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. While she lay speechless he opened the tent and crawled out, his feet crunching through the snow though his boots still remained beside his sleeping bag.

Another shiver ran through her for more than one reason.

She hadn’t been prepared for all that pale skin. Or the cords of muscle beneath. She quickly tunneled out of her sleeping bag and pulled on her own boots, tugged his coat over herself and zipped it up before she poked her head out of the tent to see him sitting on a cleared log, his hands running through his luscious head full of dark curls. His muscles rippled beneath his porcelain skin as he did so and she bit her lip to keep herself from letting out a moan. 

No man had any right to be as beautiful as he was.

He was killing her. Had been since the moment she’d first seen his soulful, stormy eyes, and with every soft, shy smile he’d turned her way since. 

His blushes alone nearly had her half in love with him.

But it made her heart ache to recognize the loneliness that had him in its tight grip. To realize how very much he had shut himself away from the world. She wanted to melt his icy cage and break him free, to help him live again. 

And she definitely wanted a closer look.

She trekked through the snow, noticing it was much thicker than it had been the night before. He’d apparently had a long night. When she plopped down beside him she expected him to scramble to cover himself up but he made no move to do so, his grey eyes peering at her curiously from under his mess of curls. She gave him a smile. “You make a habit of wandering through the snow half-naked?”

She got a glare for that and had to swallow down a bubble of laughter. “Sharin’ a tent with you is torture,” he grumbled. “I was sweatin’ most of the night. Nearly moved my bedroll outside.”

She winced. “I’m sorry. I’m hot, what can I say?”

That might have been too cheeky on her part, but his eyes were mapping her from head to toe and the deep furrow in his brow was missing so she wasn't too worried. He chuffed at her. “You look like you're freezin’.”

“I think I might be getting used to it,” she bluffed. Jon cut her a look that clearly said he didn't believe a word of it. She gave in and held her hand up to the wood she’d gathered the night before, dried it, then set it ablaze again. “There we go. A nice fire,” she said cheerfully as she held out her hands to the warmth. 

Her eyes found him again, unable to ignore the perfect picture he made. He was staring into the flames, wholly lost within his thoughts save for a hand coming up to wipe the sweat forming along his brow. A sudden melancholy took Dany then. A realization she didn't want to face. 

She was making him miserable. 

“I’ll handle breakfast if you want to wander away for a bit to get your temperature under control,” she offered, attempting to keep the sadness from her voice.

He nodded and stood. Stretched his arms over his head and twisted left and right, his spine giving a satisfying series of cracks. She couldn't keep her eyes from roaming over the planes of his abdomen to the deep v that sank beneath his pants. The dark trail of hair leading down from his navel. His glorious arse she took every chance she got to ogle.

Jon Snow was literal perfection. All those muscles under the palest skin she’d ever seen. She wanted to put her hands all over him, and more importantly, she wanted him to put his hands all over her.

She’d never felt such a rush of desire for anyone and wasn't sure if it was his body or his boldness that had her more dazed. His unabashed display was shocking considering how shy he’d been up until that point. 

He wandered away from her and back to the tent, her eyes following him until he dipped inside. She turned around and considered shoving her head into the snow to cool down and get her wits back. 

Her body might have a set goal, but her mind was all over the place. Her heart too. 

She wanted things with Jon she had never expected. Felt things she hadn't in an age, if ever. And the speed in which it had all taken her… She was beginning to believe Davos and Margaery had known a secret they’d neglected to let her in on. 

_ Were she and Jon meant to bond? Was that why they'd sent her north? Or was it just a hope on their part?  _

_ Bonded. Was that even something she wanted?  _

She'd never considered it, but now that she had, she was certain the idea would quickly consume her. She and Margaery had talked more than once about her bond with Robb. Her friend going on and on about how wonderful it was, a blissful peace she hadn't known possible. An anchor of safety and sanctuary amidst their endless eternity. To truly know the other half of her soul, and be known just as deeply in return. 

It came with boundaries, of course, but none so restrictive that Margaery nor Robb either one cared. Their shared love and happiness drowned out any burdens with ease they claimed. And she’d certainly never seen any sort of sadness in either of them. They were the happiest couple she’d ever known in her thousand years.

Her eyes shot to the tent Jon was still plundering in, her heart pounding in her throat.  _ Could she be that for him? And he the same for her?  _

It didn't seem possible on the surface. They were opposite ends of the same spectrum, surely never meant to meet. But then so were Margaery and Robb. One bringing about life and the other draining it away and yet it still worked. 

_ Could it possibly work for her and Jon? _

Her hands began to tingle and her eyes dropped to her flexing fingers, memories of their fleeting touches filling her head. How his skin against hers was always shockingly cold at first, pricking needles sparkling across her nerves. But it never lasted more than a moment. When she’d held his hand within hers the night before a warmth had taken her. It was only then she realized she hadn't felt true heat since the day she’d died. It had been so long she hadn't even recognized it!

_ By the gods! _

Jon Snow was her bonded! And she was his. 

Dany was on her feet and inside the tent without thought, intent on telling Jon her wonderful revelation only for him to shove a pot and their bagged up breakfast at her, his expression nonplussed.

It was a splash of cold water smacking her in the face. And she was suddenly thankful for it. No matter the thrill coursing through her, Jon was oblivious. Even more blind than she had been only moments before. Much more so if she were honest. He didn't have friends for gods' sake, let alone lovers. Knew next to nothing about Robb and Margaery’s relationship and how bonding worked. He would no doubt laugh her out of the tent if she even broached the subject they were meant to be together for all eternity. 

That or run away screaming.

_ Gods, she’d nearly ruined everything. _

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he mumbled and made his way out of the tent, still shirtless, but with his boots on this time. 

Dany watched him go and gave herself a moment to gather her breath again, calm her racing heart still fluttering with excitement within her chest. Jon would need easing into the idea, it would take time. It would probably be seven hells worth of frustrating waiting on him, but she'd be patient. They had an eternity after all.

And it might be good to ease herself into as well. She certainly hadn't planned on finding a life long mate on this trip.

  
  
  
  



End file.
